


Miles to Go

by kuruk, Skylark



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: HeartGold & SoulSilver | Pokemon HeartGold & SoulSilver Versions
Genre: Awkward Domesticity, Community: pokemon_bigbang, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuruk/pseuds/kuruk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Skylark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Red's descent from Mt. Silver, Leaf leads him, Green, and a rather unexpected tagalong on a road trip through Unova. Red is aimless, Ethan wants what he can't have, Leaf hopes for the best, and Green doesn't know where he stands anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Move-In

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Pokémon Big Bang 2012. Special thanks go out to [Lilcrickee](http://lilcrickee.dreamwidth.org), our artist, and [Jax](http://mercoledi.dreamwidth.org), our beta reader. 
> 
> To find the fan mixes that accompany this piece, click [here](http://miles-to-go.dreamwidth.org/tag/soundtrack).

Leaf says nothing as she slips the jacket from Green's shoulders—thick leather with silk lining, the jacket she got him for his last birthday, the one he never wears—but he can see the smile twitching at the corner of her mouth.

"It's not funny," he says, his tone angrier than he intended, and her smile vanishes. She moves behind him and tugs the sleeves free from where they're tangled around his forearms. Green doesn't help or resist, almost stubborn in his stillness.

"You don't need this, Green," she says. She sets the jacket down on the bed and hugs him from behind, her fingers fanning out against the nice shirt he's wearing. Green bites his lip.

"I can't do this," he finally breathes.

Her fingers find the hem of his shirt and slip under it, tugging it upwards. "Green, he's a friend," she says, pulling until Green sighs and lifts his arms. "It's not an interview."

Green glares at her as she moves to his dresser and pulls out an ordinary white shirt. She hands it to him, and he shrugs it on fiercely, then snags his worn black jacket off the back of his chair and yanks it on. He gets a little tangled on the second arm, but Leaf only watches, letting him figure it out on his own.

When he's finished, she stands in front of him and runs her fingers through his hair. He shakes his head, and her hands go a little awry. "All you have to do is say hello," she tells him.

"I can say that over the phone."

"You look weird with such neat hair, anyway," she says, rumpling it back into its normally messy state.

Green pulls her close suddenly and rests his forehead against hers. He's breathing harder than he should be, but Leaf just pulls back, tapping a finger against his nose.

"Come on," she says. "We're going to be late."

"So let him wait," Green says, dipping in for a kiss. Leaf dodges out of the way just in time, and his lips skid across her cheek.

" _Green_ ," she says, and holds his gaze until he drops it. She steps out of the circle of his arms and walks towards the open door.

"He's waiting at the diner," she reminds him. "You don't want me to go alone, do you?"

Green sighs. "Of course not."

She holds out her hand, mutely. Green closes his eyes, inhales deeply through his nose, and takes a step through the threshold.

\--

"You can stay with us," Leaf tells Red over dessert a few hours later.

"You can go _home_ ," Green snaps.

Leaf threads her fingers through his. "That's what I said."

\--

Green learns to skirt around the living room, walking straight through it without calling a greeting from the door like he used to. He takes off his shoes once he gets to their bedroom and refuses to come out until morning.

"You're acting like a child," Leaf tells him.

"He takes up too much room," Green growls.

But the truth is, Red takes up almost no space at all. He could fit his entire life into a closet with room to spare, and he does. Half the stuff in it isn't even his, originally. Leaf gives him towels, blankets, and a pillow with the smiling lie, "From both of us." So it's not the physical that bothers Green; it's the way the air's changed in the apartment, the way he can feel Red's gaze under his skin when he's in the open kitchenette, trying to make dinner.

Green buys take out the next day. Leaf accuses him of trying to make her fat. Red eats everything put in front of him.

"You used to hate that," Green blurts, watching Red lift a piece of broccoli to his mouth with his chopsticks. Leaf looks at him, surprised.

Red takes his time answering, and Green glares at the container of kung pao chicken as the silence stretches. "I got over it," Red says at last.

It's the first thing he's said to Green since he moved in almost three days ago. Leaf counts it as a victory and later tells him she's proud of him. Green kisses her to make her shut up.

\--

Green stops dead in the entrance to the living room, squinting at the unexpected light. Red is watching TV at three in the morning, barely inches from the screen with the sound off. It's a recording of an elite four pokémon battle. It's going predictably; Will's psychics are devastating his opposition.

He watches the scene quietly for a moment or two, his hands resting on the back of the couch, before he moves to the kitchenette and slams the faucet on. Red doesn't even jump at the sudden noise, and Green feels vaguely cheated.

He walks over to the couch and flops down on it, careful not to disturb the blanket and pillow that Pikachu is curled up on. He takes a long drink from his glass of water, watching the fight unfold. Red's hands are pressed against the screen, leaving dark handprints on the shifting images. Another one of the challenger's pokémon has fainted.

"She must be from Johto," he murmurs. Green remembers everyone who's won his badge, especially since he can count all of them on both hands.

Red turns to him, curious. He presses his index finger to the screen. "Who is that?"

"Who, Will? He's one of the Elite Four," Green says. Red is staring at him, and he realizes why, suddenly. "You don't know who he is."

Red shakes his head. Green laughs, and takes another long drink.

"Will's the first Elite Four member. He took over maybe two years ago now, after Lorelei retired. Family stuff."

Red doesn't say anything.

"Koga's in the Elite Four now, too. His daughter Janine runs the Fuchsia City Gym. She's pretty good."

Green, tired of holding a one-sided conversation, allows the room to lapse into silence. They watch Will's slowbro deluge the stage in water with an Aqua Pulse, and when it drains enough to allow the camera to see what's happened, the challenger's last pokémon is knocked out.

"I didn't know Koga had a daughter," Red finally says.

Green shifts, his eyes narrowing. "It's amazing what you miss when you're a recluse."

He drains the rest of his glass, glaring at Red's still back. The shirt he's wearing is too big for him; he lost a lot of weight while he was on the mountain. It doesn't fit, Green thinks. Red doesn't fit here, anywhere. "Why'd you come down, anyway?" he bites out.

Red turns at that, his head bowed, until he's in three-quarter profile towards Green. His face is obscured, made strange by the television's harsh light, and the other boy feels prickles race up his arms. Red licks his lips before he lifts his head to meet Green's gaze. The look in his eyes is hollow—empty.

Green hurries to bed after that, but Red's expression stays with him through work the next day. Work is going to keep him overnight, he tells Leaf when he calls her that evening. She kisses him goodnight through the phone line.


	2. The Shopping Trip

Leaf bounces on the couch, startling Red awake. "Come on, lazybones," she says, ruffling his hair before he can properly react. "We're going shopping!"

Two bowls of cereal and one note on the fridge later, they're on the back of Red's charizard, headed towards Celadon. "The League is throwing you a party," she tells him, "so we've got to get you dressed to impress." 

Red looks down at his tatty vest and uses two fingers to pluck it away from himself, examining it. Leaf chuckles. "Don't worry," she tells him. "You're in good hands."

\--

Instead of taking him to the Celadon Department Store like he had expected, Leaf takes him to a smaller shop in a quieter part of town. Red doesn't recognize the name on the storefront, but the interior is immaculate, filled with white mannequins wrapped in crisp-pressed suits.

They've been escorted to a measuring room in the back. The tailor is standing in Red's personal space, with Leaf sitting in a chair behind them both, her legs crossed at the ankles. Pikachu is curled up in her lap, his eyes fixed on the tailor's measuring tape, which loops Red's waist with a practiced flick. 

Red tries not to fidget under Leaf's amused stare. "You're acting like you've never seen a suit before," she comments. 

"Lift your arm, please," the tailor says, and then his fingers press the measuring tape against the inside of Red's outstretched arm. "What kind of suit are you looking for?" he asks, looking up.

"An English suit," Leaf answers for him. 

The tailor nods, pulling away to write two numbers down on his notepad. "What's the occasion?"

Leaf’s answering smile is easy and familiar. “We’ve been invited to a dinner at the Indigo Plateau.” She inclines her head toward Red, her fingers brushing a displaced lock of hair back into place behind her ear. “My friend here is the guest of honor.”

The tailor pauses in his movements to get a better look at Red. “Oh,” he says, his voice suddenly brimming with interest. “I suppose that he would want something more— _distinctive_ then?”

He almost opens his mouth to say that, no, he doesn’t want something distinctive at all, but Leaf answers for him again before he gets the chance. “I think that would be great,” she says, her eyes honing in on Red’s. “I think it’s important for any gentleman to have a nice suit. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” the tailor agrees. “Especially if said gentleman is being honored by the League.”

They both chuckle, sharing a conspiratorial glance across the fitting room. 

Red continues staring at Leaf, watching as her lips thin into a smile. It looks alien on her face; it looks like it belongs to another woman entirely.

The tailor composes himself and steps away to take a few more notes. Red tries not to fidget. "Red lining?" he asks, his lips quirking. 

“Oh, that would go nicely with his eyes, wouldn’t it?” Leaf nods her assent without waiting for confirmation. "Silk, if you have it?"

“We certainly do.” Red's eyes follow the tailor as he moves to the other arm, wrapping the measuring tape loosely around his bicep. He raises his arm before the tailor asks him to and receives a smile for it. "Where is the gym leader today?" the tailor asks Leaf, his words underlaid with a faint hissing as the measuring tape slides between his fingers and down the length of Red's arm.

"He's at work," she says, shifting her weight. "The suit from last time should still be fine for him though."

“Ah, yes. The Armani. That was a very nice one.” The tailor stretches the measuring tape across his shoulders, and Red straightens immediately. "What did you have in mind for a pattern? Pinstripes, plaid—"

"Nothing," Red murmurs. 

All at once, movement and conversation still around him.

“Pardon?” the tailor asks him. He looks to Leaf, however, an eyebrow arched in question.

Red remains silent, his gaze fixed on Leaf, who looks up at him again after sharing an apologetic glance with the tailor. “But Red,” she begins, “pinstripes will make your outfit stand out a little more. They’re perfect for this dinner.”

“I don’t want pinstripes,” he repeats firmly, keeping his eyes on Leaf’s.

The man places one end of the tape against Red's hip and kneels. Leaf's eyes break away from Red's, following the tailor. “What would you suggest?" she asks him.

The tailor hesitates for a moment at Red's ankle. "Pinstripes _are_ in fashion this season," he replies.

Leaf looks back at Red. "Green's been coming here for years, and you know that he has a thing for buying the best of the best," she tells him. "They're experts.” 

The tailor looks up at Red and takes in his stony expression. "Then again, a black suit is never _out_ of fashion," he adds. He leans back on his heels, pen in hand. _One button?_ he writes. Then he flips the notebook closed and gets to his feet. "I'll go bring you some more options," he says. "Excuse me for a moment."

Leaf waits until the tailor has left the room to break the silence. She takes a deep breath, her fingers scratching behind Pikachu’s ear. “Pinstripes never really go out of style, either,” she reasons. “You won’t have to worry about getting another suit or anything like that. These suits are made from good materials too, so you can use this one for a long while.” She smiles at him, though the curve of her lips is strained. “Think of it as an investment.”

Pikachu is practically purring in her lap, pressing his head against her fingers. Red glares at him, then turns so that he’s facing Leaf directly. “I’m only going to wear it once.”

Her posture shifts at that, her shoulders squaring. "Only once?" she echoes. "You'll be surprised by how many events the League hosts."

Red just shrugs. "If I go." 

Leaf cocks her head to the side, scrutinizing him. “Why wouldn’t you go?” she asks. Each word is enunciated carefully, clearly. It is almost like she is being careful not to say the wrong thing. 

He finds himself being careful too. "I don't want this," he presses on, gesturing at a photo on the wall: Lance in a three-piece suit and a cape, leaning casually against a dragon statue. "My clothes are fine."

Leaf looks away. "Then think of this as a present," she says. 

Red folds his arms. "It should be something I _need._ "

Pikachu lets out a sleepy complaint; Leaf's hands have halted in their motions, her fingers half-buried in his fur. She nods. "Okay," she says quietly. Her voice sounds almost embarassed. "A black suit with red lining it is."

Red nods, and after a moment, he turns back to the mirror. They wait in silence until the tailor returns with a thick book of suit designs on glossy pages. He holds it open for Red to see, allowing him to turn the pages at his leisure. When Red points decisively at a black suit, the man's eyes flick to Leaf. 

She says nothing, and he smiles at Red. "Certainly, sir. Shall I put it on your card?"

"Put it on Green's tab, please," Leaf rejoins. Red turns to her in surprise, and she smiles. This time, it’s genuine. "I told you," she says fondly, "it's a present. From the both of us."

The former Champion pulls at the brim of his hat, hiding his eyes from the earnestness of her gaze. Somehow, he doubts that it’s from the both of them at all.

The tailor excuses himself again to ring them up. When Leaf bends to the side of the chair to pick up her purse, Pikachu jumps off her lap and scampers across the room to his trainer, climbing onto his usual perch on his shoulder. Red reaches up absently to greet him with a scratch.

Adjusting the strap of her bag, Leaf looks up to offer him another smile. “Ready to go?”

Red nods, and with that, they take their leave.

\--

They do end up heading to the department store anyway. 

"You don't think I came all the way to Celadon to just go home after buying you a suit?" Leaf laughs, folding the receipt into her shoulder bag.

"Celadon isn't far from Viridian," Red says.

She shrugs, the clicking of her heels against the sidewalk slowing for a moment. Then she grabs his hand, tugging him down the street. "I got a newsletter from them the other day. This weekend’s one of their semi-annual sales! Come on!"

He can smell the tang of the fountain’s chlorinated water in the air from a block away. When it finally comes into view, Red goes about reacquainting himself with the plaza. 

The building seems to have received a fresh coat of paint in the intervening years: a shade of orange that resembles a paras’s skin more closely than the shade of terracotta the proprietors had probably intended. In some areas, the building has been remodeled entirely. There is a movie theater Red doesn’t remember seeing before, its ostentatious neon sign setting it apart from the rest of the city’s rustic, plant-covered architecture. The plaza is just as busy as he remembers it though. The sound of the fountain’s rushing water is almost wholly consumed by the sounds of passerby. Throngs of people sit at umbrella-covered café tables or loiter outside the theater, waiting for their movie time.

Leaf keeps her grip on his hand and leads him through the crowd. A blast of cold air buffets their faces as soon as they make it past the automatic doors, and Pikachu makes a contented sound. Red finds himself just as happy to be out of the heat too. 

To his right, Leaf shivers lightly as goosebumps rise along her skin. She lets go of Red’s hand to rub at her forearms. “They just _love_ keeping this place as cold as the Seafoam Islands, don’t they?” she mutters.

Once she has adjusted, they make their way to the elevators, and from there to the fifth floor. Red remembers it as being the floor to buy vitamins and battle items, but the floor seems to have been turned over to women’s clothing.

Leaf, noticing his wide-eyed looks, leans close to his ear. “They moved the drug store’s selection down to the second floor with the rest of the pokémon products,” she informs him. “The fourth floor’s the men’s department now, and the third is sorta like a mini supermarket.” She seems almost proud of these developments, though Red can’t imagine why. “Pretty convenient, huh?”

He shrugs, unsure. 

She rolls her eyes at him, looks at her watch, and says, “We’ve got a few hours to kill, and I need to buy some stuff anyway. You want to grab something to eat after I’m done?” Both he and Pikachu nod enthusiastically, and Leaf gives them an amused grin. “All right. I shouldn’t be _too_ long.”

Red waits patiently as she chats with a saleswoman and digs through a basket full of flat packages. "Three pairs of stockings for ten pokédollars?" Leaf says excitedly. "That’s a great deal!"

Behind her, pokémon and trainer exchange mildly horrified glances. Eventually, Pikachu huffs and pointedly wanders off to another area of the store. Red trails after him a minute later. Leaf doesn’t call after them, nor does she seem to notice that they’re gone. 

The two of them wander through the racks, Red’s eyes skimming over a collection of dresses. The brand, printed on the price tags in bold script, is simply _Elesa_. Some of the bigger displays feature a blonde woman posing beside a rather large zebstrika, her expression distant. Uninterested, Red gestures toward Pikachu, and the two of them make their way toward the elevators.

It is only when they arrive at the third floor that Red realizes that visiting the supermarket while hungry is probably not the best idea he’s ever had. Still, it's too hot outside to wait for Leaf on the sun-baked roof, and the last thing he or Pikachu wants is to visit the men’s department after spending over a half hour in that suit boutique....

Third floor it is then.

Red can’t quite remember when he last set foot in a supermarket. When he tries to remember the specific instance, memories of trailing after his mother with a shopping cart in companionable silence come to mind. The edges of his lips twitch, his eyes settling on a woman and her child, nestled in a plastic chair near the handlebars, as they walk past.

Pikachu tugs at the frayed end of his jeans impatiently, and Red looks away.

They decide to go the traditional route: walking down the dairy aisle and turning into every aisle after that, timing his steps to the aimless music playing over the sound system. He observes the distantly familiar brands of cookies and cereals that pass him by, until he comes upon the loud orange color of the Wheaties box. The brand advertises itself as the “Breakfast of Champions” and is known for endorsing the League’s top trainers. They had tried to get in contact with him almost immediately after he arrived home following his induction into the Hall of Fame and the press conference that followed. Red ended up turning them down, like he had all the other sponsorships. The whole “being Champion” situation had been surreal enough already, and the last thing he wanted was his face to be put on a bunch of cereal boxes and distributed through every region. 

Not everybody shares those reservations, however. He sees a few boxes bearing the smiling face of the Hoenn Champion, a brunette named May, here and there, but most boast an uncomfortably familiar face. 

The newest Champion of the Indigo League dominates the majority of the cereal boxes. The boy flashes a winsome smile and a thumbs-up at him, one of his eyes shut in a cocky wink. From behind him, his typhlosion’s crest of flames wreath his ensemble of reds, yellows, and blacks in a fiery orange. _Indigo League Champion Ethan_ , the boxes read.

Amidst Mt. Silver’s howling blizzards, the boy had stood hunched and shivering against the wind and snow, which threatened to swallow him whole. The awe on his features, however, was plain as day. It made Red feel uncomfortable, but the pokémon trailing behind the challenger sent a nostalgic rush of heat blossoming in his chest. When Red lifted the brim of his hat and brandished a poké ball, the boy had shakily followed suit.

That had been over a year ago, and Red and Pikachu had made short work of him that time. 

Their second encounter, however, had been much more recent—and very different. 

Red stares at the boy on the cereal box, his feet rooted to the spot, until Pikachu whines. He looks down quickly to meet his partner’s worried expression, and tries to smile reassuringly.

“She should be close to finished,” he whispers, gesturing toward the general vicinity of the elevators. “Let’s go.” 

Pikachu falls into step beside him, but they both know that he remembers who the boy on the cereal boxes is too.

\--

After paying for her stockings, Leaf brings Red to _Half-Full,_ a café on the edge of town. Trees bracket the low building, patterned light filters through the leaves onto the tables, and the only foot traffic is the occasional trainer searching for the entrance to the Celadon Gym. Some of them stop to ask for directions, but the restaurant staff just shake their heads and wish them luck. 

Leaf catches Red watching a waiter who's waving goodbye to another young trainer. They watch the girl drift down the street, staring up at the vine-wreathed buildings. "Did _you_ ever ask for directions?" she asks him.

"Daisy's town map helped," he replies.

The staff greets Leaf by name and brings her food without being told: a plate of artisan fries and a tea latte. Red looks at her drink with surprise. "I'm spoiled on the diner's milkshakes," she says. "Most other places in Kanto really don't compare, you know. Try the tuscan chicken sandwich—it's really good here."

She slides the plate of fries across the table toward him, and they nibble from it while they wait. Pikachu places his paws on Leaf's lap, looking at her curiously from underneath the table. She smiles at him, plucks a french fry from the plate, and offers it to him. He takes a few cautious sniffs, then takes it neatly from her fingers, dropping back down to the floor.

Red frowns. "Don't give him those."

"It's just one," Leaf says. "He deserves a treat after putting up with so much shopping." Her hands, however, wrap around her tea mug, and she doesn't offer Pikachu any more tidbits after that.

When their food comes (the sandwich and a glass of ice water for Red, a spinach and strawberry salad for Leaf, and a bowl of poké food for Pikachu), the server smiles at them. "Where's Green today?" he asks.

Leaf's smile is wistful. "Oh, you know how he is.... Busy at the gym like always." She gestures across the table. "This is a friend of ours—he's staying with us for a little while."

"Ah, a tourist?" 

Leaf laughs. "Not exactly."

The server waits a moment, but when Leaf doesn't say anything more, he bows a little. "Enjoy your meal," he says with a smile, and then leaves.

The sandwich has sliced plum tomatoes and pine nut pieces dusted throughout the pesto, and for a few minutes Red can't hear anything over the sounds of his own crunching. Leaf eats more delicately than he remembers, cutting the strawberries with her knife and gathering a few spinach leaves before lifting the fork to her mouth. Her wrists rest at the edge of the table, and her silverware doesn't scrape against the plate.

"I come here a lot," she says, setting down the knife. 

Red glances up at her. "Green too?"

She blinks. "What? Oh, no. At least not regularly. He's so busy, you know." Leaf takes a sip of her latte, and Red waits for her to elaborate.

Leaf holds the mug for a moment, looking at him. She seems to weigh her options, and then sighs. "Green takes being a gym leader really seriously," she tells him. Red nods. "He works so hard—sometimes he doesn't come home at all because he's got so much to do, especially when he's up for review. And he helps a lot around the town, planning events and things. He does _way_ more than he has to. And that's great," she adds hurriedly. "Everyone in Viridian City loves him. The place was a dump after Giovanni and his minions left, you know? Green's been working for years to get the city back on its feet." 

Her eyes are warm with pride, but the words sound rehearsed. Red cocks his head. "What about you?"

Leaf leans back, directing the last of the smile at her plate. "Oh, nothing much. Especially not by comparison," she says. "I just work at the diner and help Green however I can. I'm trying to learn how to cook," she says, "but Green's so good at it, it just isn't worth fighting him for the kitchen sometimes."

She laughs, but Red doesn't smile. He takes a bite of his sandwich, and slowly, Leaf's smile fades. She fidgets with her fork and reaches for another french fry instead. "Is it weird?" she asks abruptly.

Red looks at her and lifts his eyebrows, still chewing.

"That Green and I are together." She makes a small gesture with the french fry. "Were the two of us even talking the last time you saw us? I don’t think we were." 

Red shrugs; he can’t even begin to count the the number of times that Leaf and Green had stopped and resumed talking when they were kids. 

“We’ve been together for almost three years now. Officially, anyway. I remember getting invited to that dinner they were holding at the Indigo Plateau for him when he became gym leader.” Her gaze becomes distant. “One of the League’s carrier pidgeot tracked me down while I was hiking through Mt. Coronet. I hadn’t really talked to him since I left Kanto two years before that, but I wanted to put the past behind us and make a fresh start, you know?”

She pauses to take a sip of her tea latte. “Long story short, I went, and he was—different without being _too_ different somehow? He’d changed, I mean. Grown. He wasn’t the little jerk that used to try his best to show me up anymore. He was still Green of course, but he was... nicer. More grounded.” There is an absently fond grin on her face. “And things just snowballed from there, I guess.”

Red puts the sandwich down. He's not used to eating such rich food, and his stomach feels heavy. He swallows, then reaches for the glass of water. The glass clacks loudly against the table when he sets it down.

Shaken from her reverie, Leaf gives him an embarrassed little smile. “Sorry for talking your ear off there.” She picks up her fork and knife again. With them in hand, she spears and cuts another strawberry, her movements slower than before. “Do you like the sandwich?”

He looks down at his plate and shrugs.

She looks pleased, even if it is a non-answer. “I might ask you for a bite of that later. I’m always torn between getting either that or my salad, and I’d feel guilty ordering both.”

Nodding absently, Red watches Leaf for a moment, thinking. Then he says, “What did you do before you and Green?”

Leaf blinks at him, a forkful of spinach and strawberry poised to pass her parted lips. “You mean before we got together?” Red nods, and she chews and swallows her food thoughtfully before replying.

“Traveled, mostly. I went to Johto first. Took the gym challenge and everything, though I spent about a month just exploring the Olivine Sea. After that I went to Sinnoh. I wanted a change of pace from the ocean, and snowy mountain ranges sounded like the right plan. The most interesting part about the region had to be the myths though.” Leaf meets his eyes, smiling. “Have you ever heard of Cynthia?” 

He shakes his head. 

“She was the Sinnoh Champion for a while,” Leaf explains, “though she’s sort of an amateur archaeologist too. You’d like her; her garchomp is a pretty amazing battler. Their partnership reminded me a lot of you and Pikachu.” 

At the sound of his name, Pikachu peeks out from under the table. Leaf smiles at him as he looks around inquisitively. Then, with a huff, the pokémon retreats to nibble at more of his food. 

“Anyway,” Leaf continues, “I was helping her with a survey of Mt. Coronet when that pidgeot found me.” She looks down at the half empty mug of tea latte. “And I guess that leads back to the story about how Green and I ended up together.”

“Do you miss it?” he asks quietly.

Leaf looks up. “I'm not going to lie and say I don't, but it's not like I _never_ travel. Green and I go on vacations now and then.”

“You used to talk about traveling all the time when we were kids,” he insists. “You said you wanted to see the world.”

She leans forward, propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her hands. The smile on her face seems distant, her gaze sliding towards the edge of her plate. "I love Green; I’m happy with the life we have together. And Green's so busy, and he gets so worried when I travel on my own, so...we compromise." Her eyes flick back to Red's. "He's worth it, Red. I'm happy." Her smile seems genuine, and her eyes even light up a little. “Really, I am.”

Red keeps his face impassive, and after a few moments, her gaze drifts down to his half-eaten sandwich. "All that stuff I used to talk about," she says softly. "Looking back on it...wanting to travel all the time, it was pretty selfish. I guess I didn't really need it." Her shoulders pinch together with a quick laugh, and she reaches out to trace a meaningless pattern with the water ring Red's glass has left on the table. "But no, I can't say I don't miss it. I do, sometimes."

He nods and picks up his sandwich again, taking another bite. It’s not all that sweet, now that he’s used to it.

She looks up with a sudden half-smile, her shoulders loosening. "Tell me about Mount Silver," she says. 

Red looks up at her. "Cold," he says. "Lots of snow. Early sunrises and sunsets." He hesitates, trying to think of a way to describe the last dawn he saw from the mountain's summit: the thick silence as familiar as an old friend, the few tiny snowflakes brushing against his bare arms promising a blizzard later in the day, the brilliant sun turning the clouds to fire with colors as bright as Ho-Oh's wings. Then, he shrugs. "You should see it for yourself."

Leaf pouts at him. Suddenly uncomfortable, Red reaches for his glass. After a moment, the pout fades into something that looks more thoughtful, and Leaf makes a humming noise, tapping a finger against the tabletop.

"Maybe I should," she says. "Or just..." Red puts the glass down and watches her, but she's lost in thought. Suddenly she shakes her head. "Do you mind if we make a quick stop before we go home?" she says. "I want to ask Bonita something."

Red nods, and reaches over to take the last french fry. He offers it to her before he pops it into his mouth, but she shakes her head. 

Leaf glances down at his plate. “I guess you really did like that sandwich, huh?” she says.

Red thinks of trail mix and melted snow as he uses his napkin to wipe the oil from his lips. “Yes,” he replies.

To make sure she believes it, he quietly insists on paying for lunch when the cheque arrives.

\--

"Focus!" Green shouts. _"Come on_ , Elan, battle like you _mean_ it!"

One way or another, the Viridan Gym is bustling with activity: if its ace trainers aren't occupied by the challengers dizzily making their way through the maze, they're occupied by Green's training exercises at the end of the day. Most of them prefer the challengers to the exercises, because often the challengers are _easier._ Green does his best to make sure it stays that way.

At the moment, Green is pacing back and forth across the leader dais, watching as Elan's azumarill tries to hit Ida's porygon2. The porygon2 has used double team several times, and several of them are zipping around Azumarill now. 

"Focus, Elan," Green says. Elan shakes his head and looks towards Green, who just nods at him. _"Focus,"_ he repeats—it's the only hint he can give.

Elan looks out at the field, allowing Azumarill time to rest. His pokémon is breathing hard after issuing a barrage of water guns.

After a minute or so of scanning the stage, Elan's eyes widen, and Green grins. "Water gun!" Elan shouts, pointing at one Porygon2 in particular, and Azumarill whirls. Its attack lands cleanly and all the other copies vanish, leaving only one pokémon on the ground.

"Tell Ida what you saw," Green says.

"A—halo?" Elan says. "Like a ring, around your porygon2. I'm not sure how to—"

"She gets the idea," Green says. "It's a problem that the porygon line will have with double team, sometimes—a glitch of sorts. It's hard to see, but a skilled trainer will notice it. Luckily, with training, you can work it out. Eevee!" he calls, and Ida groans, watching the small pokémon bound forward onto the battle area. "You have to work with Eevee until she can't tell which porygon2 is the real one. Elan," he says, striding off the dais towards him. He claps his ace trainer on the shoulder, grinning. "Go take a break. Good work."

Green feels _alive_ when he's working at the gym—battling, training, even the paperwork. He loves learning from his trainers as much as he loves teaching them, and the constant stream of challengers that comes to his door keeps his skills sharp. Traveling would improve his battling skills even further, he knows, but in many ways being a gym leader is far better than the life of a typical trainer. He never has to worry about where he's going to sleep that night, or struggle under the weight of necessary supplies. The paperwork's boring, but he gets to spend every day with his team. What's to complain about?

Moreover, there's something he realized on the first day of becoming gym leader: people look at him differently now. The townsfolk of Viridian have treated him with respect from the moment he moved there, and on his morning jog, sometimes the old shopkeepers will call him over and feed him breakfast. As they press warm loaves of bread or soft-boiled eggs into his hands, they'll tell him stories of the great city Viridian used to be before Team Rocket changed everything. The people of Viridian believe that their city will return to its former glory one day, and over time, Green's come to believe in that dream, too.

The mayor in charge is a holdover from the city's Team Rocket days. For the first few months after Green came to Viridian, he watched the crime rates increase and the buildings continue to empty. Finally, he began to take matters into his own hands: organizing monthly street fairs on the street outside the gym, or sending his ace trainers to give free pokémon training lessons and exhibition matches at the local school. They were all little things at first, but over time those things have gotten bigger, and now he works _through_ the mayor's political channels instead of _with_ them. He's been planning the city's summer festival, for example, with the help of the mayor's office staff and with the blessing of the mayor himself, though the man hasn't helped at all. Outside of Viridian, he's not sure how much his work is noticed—especially if his grandfather's occasional phone calls are any indication—but within the town, people greet him with warm, grateful smiles and children run up to him, asking for autographs.

On top of that, he's got a beautiful, intelligent girlfriend, an apartment just a few blocks away from the gym, and the reputation of the strongest gym leader in Kanto. His life isn't perfect, but it's pretty close.

Bonita, Green's second-in-command, is walking back from the break room, looking puzzled. "What is it?" Green asks him.

Bonita's head jerks up. "Nothing," he says. "The mail came in. Should I leave it on your desk?"

Green shakes his head and holds his hand out. "Nothing's going on at the moment, so I might as well take care of it now," he says.

Bonita passes it to him before he heads back to his position, skating back through the maze with well-practiced ease. "I'll call you if anyone comes," he calls over his shoulder. Green raises a hand in thanks, his eyes on the stack of envelopes in his hand. Junk mail, bills—that reminds him, he has to send his trainers' paychecks out soon—a company that he's made some commercials for. He hopes it's payment for his services. And then, at the very bottom, an envelope from Indigo Plateau on heavy paper.

He sits down at his desk and reaches for the letter opener, tearing open the last letter first. "Dear Green," he reads aloud, "You are cordially invited to the..."

He reads the rest of the letter silently, his smile fading as he reads. When he reaches the end—"Sincerely yours, Lance"—he tosses the paper onto the desk and leans back in his chair, steepling both hands in front of his mouth.

The Indigo League is holding a dinner celebration in honor of Red returning to Kanto after seven years. Green assumes he's been invited simply because he's a gym leader, and all gym leaders, of course, should attend. After all, Red is the champion—well, _former_ champion, Green thinks viciously. In a way, Red is—was—his boss.

Green can't imagine the League throwing _him_ a party after a seven year absence. They hadn't even thrown Karen one, even after she had returned from her long trip through Sinnoh a year after Red had become champion, and she was an Elite Four member. 

His stony expression has turned into a hard frown. Leaving the other envelopes unopened on the table, he gets up and strides outside. "Bonita!" he shouts. The man's a good distance away, but Green can still see him turn. "Go get Elan and drill with him. Ida," he calls, quieter but with a voice still brimming with frustration. "Enough with that. Let's see how much you've improved over the past month—this time, you're battling me. Get whatever you need to, then come back here." He reaches for his first poké ball, his eyes hard. "Break time's over."


	3. The Party

"I still don't know why they'd even want me there," Green grumbles. He sifts through the drawerful of ties he's collected over the last two years without really searching.

From her side of the bed, Leaf sighs. "You're a gym leader and a childhood friend of the honoree. It would be an insult if they didn't invite you."

Green snorts mirthlessly. "I wouldn't care." His eyes narrow at a particularly hideous tie he keeps stashed at the bottom of the drawer. "I'm sure the caped crusader knows I wouldn't and invited me anyway."

"Why? To spite you?" He can practically hear her rolling her eyes. "This party’s for Red. All they want you to do is smile and look pretty.” She pauses, and the bed springs creak beneath her shifting weight. “Which you’re pretty good at. So I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

He turns to look at her, an eyebrow quirked.

She sits on the bed with her back to him, the curvature of her spine pronounced as she bends forward to roll sheer stockings up her legs. Eevee, curled up in the warm dip Leaf’s weight leaves in the mattress, dozes. When Leaf straightens again, she looks at him over her shoulder and winks.

A fond smile pulls at the corners of his lips, but Green stubbornly smothers it down. It comes out as a grimace instead.

She frowns at him, her eyes flitting downward. “Don’t you hate that tie?” she asks.

He follows her gaze and finds that he is holding the hideous tie, the one he keeps hidden. His grandfather had sent him the tie in the mail when he was appointed Viridian Gym Leader. Attached to the silky fabric was a simple note written in the professor’s cramped script. _Congratulations,_ it read. He’d crumpled the note into a ball in his hand and considered tossing it and the tie into the garbage but ended up keeping both anyway.

Green’s grimace deepens into a scowl. “Yes,” he agrees, though he is already throwing it over his shoulders and popping his collar.

Brows knit in concentration, Green ties a knot.

Leaf watches, a look of quiet disapproval on her face as she goes about putting on a strapless bra. When Green steps back to inspect his handiwork in the mirror, Leaf clucks her tongue, more bemused than disapproving now, and pads toward him. “That’s really crooked,” she points out.

Green rolls his eyes but stays quiet.

“Chin up,” Leaf says. Her hands pull at the ends of his shirt to get the top button into its corresponding hole. When she’s succeeded, she stands on her tiptoes, props her chin on his right shoulder, and undoes the knot.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you asked me to turn around?” he asks, his voice made gruffer by the tightness of the shirt’s collar.

“Hush.”

Her front to his back, Leaf corrects his mistake.

When she’s finished, she inspects her work. “It’s still a little crooked,” she observes. “I could do it again. Are you sure you don’t want to wear the green one? You know, the one that goes well with your eyes?”

“It’s fine,” Green says quickly, his tone abrupt enough to wake Eevee. The pokémon raises her head to stare at them tiredly from the bed.

Leaf stays in position for a moment, then steps away. “If you say so.” She walks toward her closet, pausing briefly to scratch behind Eevee’s ears soothingly as she passes the bed. “Now help me pick out a dress.”

\--

Later, Green waits by the door and compulsively checks his watch. He taps his foot impatiently, scowling all the while.

“Are you two gonna be done anytime soon?” he calls irritably.

“Almost,” Leaf replies, her voice coming from the bathroom. “I’m just helping Red with his tie. We’ll be out in a minute.”

Green thinks of their reflection in the tiny bathroom: Red facing the mirror expressionlessly, Leaf’s chin propped on his shoulder and her hands working at his neck. Something angry clenches his stomach; the tapping of his foot becomes louder, faster.

Pikachu regards him from the couch, his freshly groomed head cocked to the side inquisitively. Green sneers at him.

“What are you looking at?”

The mouse pokémon lets out a dignified little huff before disappearing amongst the cushions, leaving Green to mumble to himself a little resentfully.

A few minutes later, he hears the distinctive clack of heels accompanied by the dull slap of Red’s footsteps against the tile.

Leaf enters the hall first, turning in her black dress for him to see. Green hums dispassionately, too caught up in his displeasure to appreciate the view, and Leaf retaliates by slapping at his arm good-naturedly.

Red follows shortly thereafter.

Like Green, he is wearing a suit, button-up shirt and tie, dress pants, and shoes. It is quickly apparent, however, that he (or rather, Leaf) put more thought into how the clothes would look on him. The deep crimson of the tie hanging from his collar and the accents on his suit jacket cut across and frame his dark shirt. The outfit accentuates his eyes, making them look more of a vibrant red than they actually are.

“Well,” Leaf says smugly, “do you approve of our tastes?”

Green averts his eyes and opens the door. Glaring at the floor, he holds it open. “Can we leave sometime tonight?”

Leaf laughs, squints at Green’s shoulders, and runs the palms of her hands along them to brush lint and pokémon fur off. “That means he does,” she stage-whispers at Red as she crosses the threshold. To Green she says, “I’ll go ahead and hail a cab.”

He nods, and Leaf leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek before heading for the elevator. Red looks up from the floor, staring as she walks away.

A moment of silence passes as Green waits for Red to step out the door. He busies himself with rather pointedly pulling his keys out of his pocket, but Red remains where he is, staring.

After a few seconds, Green looks up and meets his eyes. “Are you coming or not?”

Red doesn’t reply, staring in that unnervingly flat way of his.

Green bristles, his hands squeezing into fists. _“What?”_

The former Champion raises a finger and points it at Green’s chest. “Your tie,” says Red, “is ugly.”

Green stares for a moment in silence before turning away. “Thanks for the fashion advice,” he grits out.

The other man shrugs and— _finally_ —makes his way out of the apartment. Pikachu scampers after him.

Sticking his key into the lock rather viciously, Green runs his tongue over the pointed edges of his teeth and resolves, bitterly, to count the hours until they can return home.

\--

The cab ride to the Indigo Plateau is fraught with tension.

All three of them sit in the back, Leaf squeezed between the two of them. Despite her best attempts at lightening the mood with small talk, Green and Red remain unresponsive.

“Look,” she says, gesturing out the window nearest Green. “They’re almost done building that new Unovan restaurant I told you about.”

Green doesn’t even bother looking up from his pokégear. “Uh-huh,” he says, his face illuminated by the dim glow of the screen.

Leaf sighs and stares out at Viridian’s passing lights.

\--

She tries again once they’re driving along the overpass over Victory Road.

She nudges Red’s side with her elbow to get his attention and points at the mountainous route with her other hand. “Remember the first time we saw this?” she asks, unfazed by Red’s unresponsiveness. “We were on a field trip in the second grade, and Green talked our ears off about how one day he’d ‘beat’ this place. And when we went on the tour Green tried to convince us to sneak away from the class and try to get into the Hall of Fame, but Mrs. Robin caught us.” Her laugh sounds strained and discordant over the hum of the taxi’s engine. “She wouldn’t let us out of her sight for the rest of the trip!”

She can feel the tension settle into Green’s shoulder as the muscles in his arm go taut against her bare forearm. He has stopped scrolling through his emails, she realizes. The two of them remain silent and motionless, waiting for a response.

“Yes,” Red says eventually, simply. He does not turn away from the window.

After another quiet moment, Green makes a small, derisive sound in the back of his throat and starts scrolling through his phone again. The tension, however, migrates up his arms to nest in his shoulders, where it will remain for the rest of the night.

Eventually, Leaf resigns herself to enduring the rest of the trip in silence.

\--

Red had last visited the Indigo Plateau seven years ago to hand in his resignation.

Those memories have aged poorly in the intervening years between that trip and this one, the images blurred by the calm and solitude of Mt. Silver. He cannot quite recall, for example, how he phrased the letter he’d strung together the night before, nor can he remember how the council members reacted as he walked away.

There are a few details that have survived unscathed. He remembers that it was a Thursday and that Pikachu clung to his shoulder the entire time; he recalls running into an unsuspecting Lance on his way out and not stopping when the dragon tamer called after him.

Tonight, the Elite Four castle is bustling with noise and motion—nothing like the empty, echoing place he left so many years ago—but Lance, in his cape, still draws his eye amongst the crowd of evening gowns and pressed suits. He seems relaxed, throwing his head back with laughter when the new Elite Four member, Will, says something. It's a far cry from the three of them, standing in the doorway—Green with his back unnaturally straight, Leaf with her practiced false smile, and Red instinctively ducking behind both of them when he sees the ocean of strange voices and faces before him. Pikachu is still as much a comfort now as he was then, his weight warm and familiar on his shoulder.

"Green!" someone calls. Green looks up and relaxes a little, smiling as Brock throws an arm around his shoulders.

"I didn't think you'd make it, man," Brock says.

Green laughs, gesturing to Leaf. "My better half," he says. "Blame her."

Brock pulls away from Green to give Leaf a quick hug. "Long time no see, Brock," she says.

"You should stop by Pewter sometime," he tells her. "We've got some new exhibits in the museum that you might like." Brock turns to look at Green. "When are we going to go on that trip to Cinnabar?"

"Someday," Green says. The word comes out of his mouth too easily, reflexive.

Leaf steps out of the hug, and Red freezes, suddenly exposed. Brock goes still for a moment when he sees him.

"Red!" he says. The word is like a signal: the crowd around them quiets as people turn to look. Brock extends a hand, oblivious to the sudden attention. "It's great to see you again."

After that, most of the night passes in a similar fashion: introductions, reintroductions, well-wishes, awkward snippets of conversation, an occasional flash of light as someone takes a photo. Green wanders off towards the buffet table a few minutes in, and Red catches glimpses of him later, smiling as a group of people laugh at something he's said. Leaf stays with him for a bit longer, but is eventually dragged away by Misty and—Janine, Leaf calls her. Janine is the same age he is, and she's obviously Koga's daughter, from the way she holds herself to the shape of her eyes. It's strange that he's never met her before. It's amazing, all the things he doesn't know.

Forty-five minutes later, Lance finds him in the crowd. Pikachu has migrated into Red's arms by that point. Red is looking down at him as he scratches the spot behind Pikachu's left ear, using it as an excuse to not make eye contact with anyone, when he sees a familiar cape curling around newly shined black shoes.

There are new wrinkles around Lance's eyes, but he has the same small smile, the same half-apologetic tilt of the head. His handshake hasn't changed, either—warm and carefully practiced, two firm shakes and a quick release.

"Red," he says. "Welcome back."

Red's response is inaudible, but Lance nods anyway, resting a hand between his shoulder blades and gently propelling him towards the double doors at the end of the room. "I'm sorry," Lance says, softer. Red looks up at him, curious, and the half-smile flashes across Lance's face again. "I seem to remember that you don't like crowds," he explains.

The following hall is filled with tables, each one with twelve seats with full place settings before them. Lance leads Red down the center aisle, and Pikachu hops out of his arms now that he's not in danger of being stepped on. The noises of the crowd fade as they approach the large stage at the other end of the hall.

They stop at a table right in front of the stage. Lance gestures toward a small placard that reads _Red_ in rolling script. "Dinner should be starting in about ten minutes," Lance says. "I'll let Green and Leaf know where you are."

Red sits down and Pikachu jumps into his lap. The two of them stare at the forest of forks, knives, and spoons that surround the plate. Lance hovers behind them for a moment, just at the edge of Red's peripheral vision. "You'll be all right here?" he asks. Red nods, handing Pikachu the tiniest spoon, which he seems particularly interested in. Lance hesitates for another moment, then says, "Well, excuse me," and turns on his heel, returning to the party.

The doors close, leaving Red in silence, and he instantly slumps back against his chair, closing his eyes. Pikachu drops the spoon and dives to the floor after it. Red listens to him batting it back and forth underneath the table and breathes out.

\--

His grandfather, as always, is late.

It is to be expected of the professor, and most everyone is used to it by now. Green certainly is. Professor Oak had been over two hours late to the dinner held in honor of his grandson’s appointment to the Viridian City Gym. “You know that Grandfather isn’t one for events like this,” Daisy had told him in that soft, apologetic way of hers. It was the perennial sort of tone she used whenever their grandfather did something that disappointed him. “He’s probably just being fashionably late to avoid having to make small talk.”

“Please,” Green had mumbled bitterly over the edge of his glass of apple cider, “Gramps isn’t fashionable about anything.”

The tie around his neck at the moment is proof enough of that, he thinks.

Presently, Leaf slips an arm into the crook of his elbow. “Have you seen Red?” she asks, her eyes skimming over the crowd.

“Do I look like his keeper?” he retorts.

“A simple yes or no would have been great.” Leaf’s tone is level, her face impassive as she continues her search of the ballroom. When a waiter bearing a trayful of champagne flutes passes by, she grins at him thankfully and catches one between her index finger and thumb. “I’m worried about him; you know he hates crowds.”

“A little socialization like this might not cure him, but it won’t break him either.” He snorts meanly, and pauses to take another large swallow of his scotch and soda. “At least not any more than he’s always been.”

Leaf’s eyes narrow at him, her arm going tense against his own. “That was totally uncalled for, Green,” she hisses.

To their right, someone clears their throat. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Lance says apologetically.

“Not at all,” Green replies briskly.

Leaf removes her arm from his and takes a long sip of champagne. The dragon master’s dark eyes flit between the two of them for a moment, sensing the tension. When Leaf smiles at him as a gesture to go on, he says, “I escorted Red to the dining room a few moments ago. I thought you two would like to know.”

The statement catches Leaf mid-swallow, and her mouth works soundlessly for the briefest of moments. Once she’s swallowed the champagne, she says, “Thank you, Lance. We were just wondering where he’d gone.”

Lance discreetly keeps his eyes off Green as the gym leader rolls his eyes. “Dinner will be starting in a few minutes. Would you like me to show you the way to him?”

There is a ripple of noise in the crowd. It swallows Leaf’s response, which Green is sure is an affirmative anyway. He cranes his head away from the others, turning toward the doors, and catches sight of a head of gray hair.

Green pulls back the sleeve of his suit and dress shirt to peer at his watch. This time, Professor Oak has arrived only fifty-six minutes late.

That familiar feeling of dread rises inside of him once his grandfather spots him and begins to make his way over. Green avoids his gaze and turns toward Leaf, who has already begun to follow Lance through the parted crowds.

“Leaf,” he calls, his voice loud enough to attract a few looks. “Leaf!”

He sees her hair flow with the turn of her head, and then she too is obscured from him.

“Shit,” Green mutters under his breath. He can feel his grandfather’s eyes on him as he draws closer. Briefly, Green considers darting into the crowd to follow Leaf. Ignoring Red is easy; he’s been doing a pretty good job of it so far.

The same can’t be said about ignoring Oak, however. “Shit,” he repeats much more venomously.

With great effort, he stays rooted to the spot and occupies his fingers with tapping at the edge of his nearly-empty glass.

“Green,” Oak greets him with a nod of his head, looking him over from head to feet.

“Gramps,” replies Green.

His scrutiny sated for the moment, Oak extends his hand. Green takes it after a few seconds, though the resulting handshake is flimsy at best.

The professor looks around for something, ignoring the glances of the people around him. He's is notorious for avoiding formal soirees like these. Extenuating circumstances in the lab, his RSVPs usually read. Pressing research to conduct is another favorite.

Oak’s eyes snap back to Green. “Where is the guest of honor?”

For neither the first nor the last time that night, Green subdues the urge to roll his eyes in response to that question. Though the alcohol in his system makes it considerably more difficult to resist, the intensity of his grandfather’s stare stirs the smallest tinge of guilt within him. The glass of liquor in his hand certainly doesn’t make it any easier; he feels like he’s been caught doing something forbidden.

Green has been well-acquainted with Gramps-related guilt for most of his life, though he tries to remind himself that he shouldn’t allow himself to feel that way. His grandfather has never been the kind of man that gives praise easily, too distracted by the latest discoveries about pokémon breeding or evolution—or, sometimes, the talented boy next door—to notice Green. When he first started out as a trainer, Green tried doing all the things he thought his grandfather wanted: catching wild pokémon to fill pages in the Pokédex, challenging Kanto’s gyms, becoming Champion. That, however, had only been half the game; the catch was he had to do it all better and faster than Red or Leaf could.

When it turned out that he couldn’t beat Red no matter how hard he tried, he returned to Pallet Town to lick his wounds and sulk. Green could tell that Oak was doing his best to give him time, but his grandfather eventually tried to persuade him to "make himself useful"—there was work that needed to be done at the Sevii Islands, and Green, he said, would be perfect for the job.

Oak had contacted Celio, an associate of his on Knot Island, to recommend Green for an internship there. At the time, Green had been interested in Celio’s idea of a “Pokémon Network,” which would theoretically make it possible for pokémon in the Storage System to be transferred over long distances through the Internet, thus eliminating the need for intermediaries in both interregional travels and trades. It was a groundbreaking, challenging project, and Green had been disaffected enough with the idea of competitive battling at the time to let his grandfather push him towards helping Celio with his research.

In the end, things did not go as well as either of the Oaks had hoped. Green’s responsibilities, which basically involved keeping in contact with the other regions’ researchers over the phone and compiling their data to keep Celio abreast of his colleagues’ progress, were time-consuming but not much else. After a few months of trying—and failing—to ignore how caged he felt by spending days at a time without going outside, watching Eevee nap out of boredom beside his computer screen for hours, he apologized to Celio and gave him his two weeks' notice. After that, he absconded to Hoenn on a whim, where he stayed in the houses of the friends he’d made after those numerous phone calls.

His grandfather had been quite disappointed with his decision, to say the least. Ever their go-between, Daisy called him to convey both her concern and their grandfather’s sentiments. “I think he’s embarrassed that you quit so suddenly, especially since he was the one to recommend you for the position,” Daisy’s voice said through the receiver.

“I need time,” Green replied. “Distance to figure everything out.” But the relationship between grandfather and grandson had grown more distant than ever after that. Green wasn't surprised when Professor Oak was late to his gym leader celebration. He was, instead, surprised that his grandfather had remembered to come at all.

Green's eyes refocus; he's at a party, his colleagues surround him, and he's talking to his grandfather, who's staring at him expectantly. Right. “Red’s in the dining room,” Green says, eager to be rid of the lingering guilt that dogs his thoughts. “Leaf and Lance went to, um, keep him company.”

Oak nods but remains where he is, staring at the spot above his grandson’s left shoulder. Green fidgets uncomfortably. He tries focusing on the clink of the ice within his glass, and he mostly succeeds, at least until the professor speaks up again.

“I trust that you have behaved accommodatingly towards Red?”

Green looks up, his mind tripping over the words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The professor clears his throat. “Red has been staying with the two of you, hasn’t he?"

“Yes,” he grits out.

“His mother worries about him,” says Oak. “You should encourage him to visit Pallet Town more often.”

Green almost chokes on a laugh. “I’ve been doing that since he first got here, Gramps.” _More than that, actually,_ he wants to say, but he'd only have enough courage to mutter it under his breath, and his grandfather has never abided unclear articulation.

"He can be a stubborn boy,” Oak says. “Perhaps his mother and I should visit you instead.”

Green stiffens. _"No."_ At his grandfather's startled look, he closes his eyes. "I know how much you hate leaving the lab," he says tightly. "Besides, he's already here. Why don't you just go see him?"

"Why aren't _you_ with him?" his grandfather asks.

He opens his mouth, then closes it. He covers the motion by lifting his glass to take a quick drink. "I'm talking to my coworkers," he says. "Red will be fine on his own."

Oak turns, scanning the crowd. "There's quite a turnout here! I think I'd get lost if I tried to look for him myself." He turns to his grandson with a bemused smile. "Don't you think Red might feel the same way? Let's go find him."

Green takes a deep breath. It's always hard to argue with his grandfather, and harder still with alcohol and annoyance weighing on his tongue. He spends a moment gathering himself and trying to remember where Lance and Leaf went. "This way," he says finally, and takes off at a fast pace through the crowd. He successfully manages to stay out of easy conversation range until they reach the double doors. Two servers are opening them, revealing Lance in the center of the doorway.

"Dinner is about to be served," he announces to the crowd. "Please join us in the dining room."

Green heads towards Lance, who smiles when he sees the two of them. "Professor Oak," he says, reaching out to shake his hand. "It's an honor to have you with us tonight. May I show you two to your seats?"

"Actually, my grandfather was looking for Red," Green says.

"Red is sitting at your table," Lance says to Professor Oak. "We thought it was only fitting. You too, Green. This way."

Following Lance, Professor Oak and Green precede the crowd filtering into the dining room. When they reach their table, Green notes with relief that Leaf has situated herself between Red’s place and his own—but his lips thin when he sees that Professor Oak's name is on the plate next to his.

"Thank you," the professor says to Lance, who has pulled out his chair. He sits down with a heavy sigh, beaming at Red and Leaf. Lance glances at Green, but nods when he's waved off.

"I'm fine," Green says. "Thanks." Lance moves to his seat next to Red, and the large table is soon filled out with the other Elite Four members. It's the VIP table, evidently. Green wants to be proud that he's at the table that the whole room is watching, but he knows that it's not only because of his own merits. It's because of Red's—the wonder-child of Pallet Town, Professor Oak's prodigy.

Green leans back as his grandfather speaks to Red around him. Red hesitates before giving a short response, but the professor has never been one to pass up a captive audience, and soon he's giving a long lecture on the latest discoveries he's made on Cinnabar Island while Red listens with a mixture of fascination and relief. Meanwhile, Lance and Leaf have begun discussing—cape fashion trends, it sounds like.

He looks down at his empty plate, and _Green Oak_ stares back at him. He picks the namecard up and jams it into his pocket before he can really think about it. He wishes he had Eevee with him, but she was tired and had wanted to rest. Green doesn't blame her. He'd wanted to stay home, too.

The dinnertime chatter swirls around him without touching him, and Green sighs, rubbing at his throbbing temple. It's going to be a long night, he thinks, but he's seen worse. The thought doesn't comfort him, but then again, it never has.

\--

"And now to introduce our guest of honor, Red!" says Lance, his amplified voice bouncing off the walls of the conference hall.

The thundering applause swells as the spotlight settles on their table. Green rolls his eyes and leans further back in his chair to duck out of the light.

From the seat beside hers, Red's gaze catches Leaf's and holds it. She sees nothing in them but the urge to run.

Once Red reaches the stage, Green shoves his seat back. "I'm leaving," he mutters. Leaf can barely hear him over the continuing cheers. Professor Oak glances up, but his attention quickly strays back to the boy on the stage.

Leaf catches his hand, looking up at him, but he pulls free. "You coming?" he asks. He hesitates when she shakes her head, then drops a rushed kiss onto her cheek. "Yeah, I can't do this. I'll see you later," he says, knowing she'll use his credit card for the cab fare.

Even after Red's back in his seat, slowly relaxing as the room's ambient chatter returns to its normal level, Red's panicked expression, the silent cry for _escape,_ sticks in Leaf's mind. It gets her thinking.

\--

The taxi drops them off in front of the apartment building.

Leaf pulls a card from her purse and swipes it through the built-in credit card scanner.

“Have a good night,” she tells the cabbie, who had been eying Pikachu warningly through the rearview mirror the entire ride over. Red can’t really blame him; pikachu are rather infamous around these parts for chewing on wires and wrecking entire electrical systems.

After insisting that they take the elevator instead of the stairs, Leaf rummages through her clutch outside the door. "You'd think it'd be easier to find my key in this thing," she says. Her tone is slightly apologetic, though Red is not sure what she is apologizing for.

After another moment of waiting, she finally pulls the key out between her index and middle fingers. "Here we go," she says softly, her tone relieved.

Red attributes the difficulty she encounters in trying to get the key into its lock to the flutes of champagne she had plucked from the waiters' trays at the party.

The door swings open to reveal a dark, empty apartment. It's already past two, so Eevee is probably sound asleep. Green isn’t anywhere in sight either, so he is probably asleep as well. Red steps in gingerly, and Leaf closes the door behind them as quietly as she can. After she clicks the door locked, she flicks the hall light on.

"It's cold," Leaf notes. She crosses her arms and runs her palms along the bare skin of her forearms, her body shivering. "Green likes keeping this place like an ice box."

She walks down the hallway to adjust the thermostat, leaving Red to stand awkwardly in the doorway. It's been a month, but Red cannot seem to get used to this place. He still wakes up expecting to feel the hard edge of the bedrock against his back and the bite of Mount Silver's cold nipping at his face. Opening his eyes to the apartment's low ceilings and the sagging leather of the couch makes him feel constrained and suffocated. Pikachu does not seem to share this problem; he hops off his trainer’s shoulder and scampers onto the couch, where he makes himself comfortable in a bed of pillows, and Red envies the pokémon for the ease with which he's adapted to their new surroundings.

Leaf's presence is announced by the rumble of the air conditioner through the vents. "Don't just stand there," she says as she walks past him and towards the kitchen. "Come in."

He does as he is told and follows her.

"I don't know about you, but the food they served at that thing didn't fill me up at all." She peers into the pantry for a moment before reaching in. "Want some crackers?" she asks, brandishing an open package of Ritz. When she sees Red eying the twisted ends, she says, "I keep forgetting to stop by the supermarket after work, so this is all we've got."

He shrugs at her in response, but they end up pulling out adjacent chairs at the kitchen table together anyway. They eat in companionable silence, the crackers too stale to crunch as they chew.

When they finish, Leaf crinkles the package into a ball and tosses it into the bin. "These shoes are killing me," she says a few moments later, her voice too tired for it sound like a complaint. "The dress too."

Red licks at his dry lips and tastes salt.

The scrape of her chair against the tile draws his gaze, but he does not follow her this time.

He knows he should turn in soon as well. His eyes burn with tiredness, the buzz of sleep deprivation settling in the space between them, right above the bridge of his nose. He is used to sleeping and rising with the sun; this is another thing he suspects he will never be able to leave behind, though his body already has. His sleeping patterns have shifted, and now Red falls asleep to reruns of years-old recordings of trainers challenging the Elite Four and rises once Leaf and Green have already gone off to work. It is disorienting, to say the least.

Red rises and heads for the hall closet that Leaf has relegated to his use to retrieve his pajamas. On his way, however, he catches sight of Leaf through the open door to the bedroom.

She is standing in front of her dresser, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she undoes the clasps of her earrings. The curve of her back is pale in the moonlight streaming in through the window, and the strands of her hair brush against the expanse of skin and upper edges of the dress with her movements.

Leaf is visibly startled when she catches sight of him in the mirror. "What?" she whispers.

He is not quite sure he wants to say, how to piece everything he has seen in a manner he can articulate. No matter how he tries to puzzle it out, he finds that he cannot reconcile the memories of his childhood friend with the woman in the bedroom, the woman she’s become. Not completely.

For the first time since he left Mt. Silver, Red feels small.

"You grew up," he offers simply.

She sets her earrings down on the dresser and turns toward him. Her smile looks sad when she says, "We all have."

Red finds that he cannot argue with that.

“Do you think you could close the door?” she asks. She draws the length of her index finger over her lips, and Red nods before quietly moving toward the doorway. The doorknob feels cold against his palm when he lightly wraps his fingers around it and pulls.

He catches a glimpse of a huddled form on the bed that must be Green—a tuft of chestnut hair sticking out from under the duvet—before the door shuts.


	4. The Proposal

"Bonita told me you've got almost two years of vacation time stored up," Leaf says, too casually. 

Eevee looks up at her, and Green pauses in the middle of pulling his boot on.

Leaf takes the seat beside him at the table. "What are you going to do with it?"

Green shrugs. "Hadn't thought about it."

"It's been almost a year since we've gone anywhere, you know."

"We took that trip to Saffron." Green turns his attention to his other boot.

"A weekend away doesn't count." Leaf waits, then adds, "Not to me."

Green's hands jerk as he zips up the backs of his boots. "Do we have to talk about this right now?"

Leaf props her chin on her hands. "When do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know." He sighs, feeling Leaf's eyes on him. "Tonight, I guess. I'm going to be late."

"Oh, Green, you're the only one who cares about that." She reaches out and tweaks his sleeve—an old gesture.

He scrapes up a smile, then turns away. "Come on, Eevee." 

He shuts the door quietly in deference to the boy still sleeping on the sofa. Leaf idles for a while longer, listening to the seconds tick by on the clock. She looks up suddenly, toward Red.

"Seven years," she whispers.

When the clock reaches _8:39_ , she gets up and pulls her coat on. Her mind moves towards the coming day, the sea of familiar faces, the smells and sights of the same sixty dishes placed on tables she's cleaned a hundred times. Her fingers almost catch in the door as she pulls it shut behind her.

\--

Leaf works at a diner a few blocks away from the apartment.

Located in what is rapidly becoming known as Viridian City’s burgeoning design district, the trailer-shaped restaurant is now considered a relic from the more dated chapters of the city’s history. It persists all the same, tacky aluminum exterior and all. Unlike the other establishments in the area that had been deemed unfashionable, it stubbornly resists going out of business and giving way to yet another ‘underground’ art gallery or the owners of that one vegan chain that keep trying to buy them out.

Sure, it may not the best place to be employed, but Leaf likes it. The passerby take one look at the cracked vinyl of the booths and the old jukebox (that has a rather amusing propensity to play “The Shoop Shoop Song” no matter what combination of buttons one presses) and see an unkempt dump, but Leaf thinks it has spunk. Most of the food on the menu is definitely on the greasy side, but they serve what must be the best strawberry milkshakes in the city. The ambiance—a mismatched collection of ‘50s, ‘60s, and ‘70s Unovan paraphernalia—almost makes up for the pay, which is pretty lousy. She does have a few regulars that pop in for lunch every other day, and their tips are good enough to pay for most things that catch her fancy in the storefront windows she walks past on her way home.

The milkshakes, admittedly, account for a large part of why Leaf elected to work there. Neither her mother nor Green seem able to understand that rationale, however.

Her mother likes to bring up the ‘employment situation’ every time she calls or—god forbid—visits. “I just don’t understand why such an intelligent young woman like yourself would have to stoop to _serving people their lunches._ ” She likes bookending this time-honored complaint—which is delivered in an appropriately horrified tone for emphasis—with dramatic, long-suffering sighs; Leaf has to refrain from sighing in frustration herself.

It’s much easier for her to avoid the question over the phone than during a meal. While her boyfriend tends to disagree with the woman on most things, they do share a dislike of Leaf’s career choices. Pinned down by the combination of her mother’s accusations and Green’s studied, nonchalantly pointed looks, her usually tactful avoidance techniques devolve into forceful subject changes and tight smiles that promise him a round of the silent treatment when they get back to the apartment.

For his part, Green has stopped bringing up his own disdain about her job. It took a particularly large fight that ended with his exile to the couch for a week and a half, but he has made an effort to stop. However, she still has to bear his sour looks whenever she recounts the tale of a rude customer and how Ralph, the gargantuan, almost nonverbal cook, kicked them out or the latest—and ultimately doomed—romantic endeavor of Angie, her fellow waitress. She stops talking about work altogether after a while.

In truth, while her love for milkshakes is deep and abiding, it is not exactly the real reason she works there.

The lunch crowd isn’t as big as it used to be since that new free-range only joint opened down the street, but Leaf enjoys the constant movement waitressing requires, the small thrill of encountering a new customer to make small-talk with while she jots down their order. In the smallest of ways, it simulates her old lifestyle—the satisfying ache of her feet and thighs after trekking miles to get to the next Pokémon Center, the easy companionship that comes with trading stories with a fellow trainer after the occasional battle. Said new customers are usually traveling trainers who are just passing by anyway, so the verisimilitude is pretty much complete.

Unlike the individuals she met while journeying through Hoenn and Sinnoh, however, these trainers mope almost exclusively about their defeat at the hands of the Viridian Gym Leader, and—well, that undoes some of the similarities, doesn’t it?

Like most things in her new life, it can’t really compare to what she used to do before.

Still, Leaf resolves to get the best out of what she has, and she does for the most part. When she manages to sell Green on her idea, she’ll have captured three pidgey with one poké ball. Things will have to get better after that; she just knows it.

She takes a sip of the milkshake she’s drinking, which is particularly tasty today. She makes a mental note to extend her compliments to Angie after her break is over, who—speak of the devil—appears to interrupt her mid-slurp.

Leaf quirks her eyebrows and makes a show of looking rather pointedly at the Elvis Presley-themed clock over the counter.

At least Angie has the decency to look apologetic. “Sorry for interrupting your break, Leaf, but someone’s here to see you.”

Curiosity piqued, Leaf leans across the counter to peek out from her preferred lunch break corner at the line of booths by the window. She catches sight of a familiar yellow-and-black brim of a cap before quickly darting back for cover.

“Shit,” Leaf mutters. She chews on her bottom lip and considers her options for a moment before looking back up at Angie. “Could you take care of him, Ang? Tell him I’ve got, like, fifteen minutes left on my break.”

“Already did,” the other waitress replies. “He said that he’d wait for you ‘til you’re done.” When Leaf’s expression sours, Angie snorts. “Trust me, hon, I would pay to take that customer off your hands.”

Grabbing her apron from the back of her chair, Leaf smiles weakly. “Bidding starts at one poké!” she calls to Angie’s retreating back before it disappears into the kitchen.

After she ties on her apron, Leaf eyes the back of the customer’s head with frustration, takes a deep breath, and walks to his table. “Welcome to Ralph’s,” she says without much enthusiasm. “What can I get you?”

The boy blinks at her over his sunglasses before quirking his lips in a slightly strained version of his usual smirk. “What? I’ve been bumped back down to the place’s standard greeting again?”

Leaf rolls her eyes and opts to look out the window. “Are those shades supposed to make you look cool or something?” she asks, watching disinterestedly as a couple in trendy, matching outfits walk hand in hand across the street.

Though he tries to cover it up with a scoff, Leaf can still see his cheeks redden out of the corner of her eye. “Why? You like them?” Leaf begins tapping her foot on the fire engine-red carpet, and he abruptly changes his approach. “Dunno. They help with avoiding people recognizing me.”

“I thought you ate all that up.”

“I do!” he retorts. “I really like it sometimes. It... it just gets a little old when you can’t walk down the street without someone asking for an autograph or a battle, you know?”

Reminded of Red, she frowns. “Yeah, I know.”

A moment of silence settles between them. Once the couple outside has walked out of sight, Leaf turns her gaze to the boy. “What do you want, Ethan?”

The Indigo League Champion seems to hesitate. After a couple of seconds, he licks his lips and gestures at the seat opposite him and across the table. “Wanna sit?”

“Can’t,” she replies quickly. “I’m working.”

“Bullshit,” he says without any real malice. “The other waitress told me you were on a break.”

_Shit_ , she thinks heatedly. Nevertheless, a long career of semi-professional pokémon battling has taught her when and how to accept defeat. Arms crossed tightly over her chest, she squeezes into the seat opposite Ethan, ever mindful of where the cracks are relative to her calves.

“We’re called servers now,” she retorts belatedly, lamely.

Ethan forces another smirk and pushes up at his glasses, hiding his eyes from her. He waits a moment before he says, “I’ll be sure to remember that.” His voice is strained too, and she just knows that he isn’t really looking at her underneath those concealing lenses.

Leaf rubs at her temples wearily, mentally kicking herself a little. Nice, Leaf. You tell him it’s not his fault, and then you treat him like it is. Real smooth.

“Sorry,” she says, her tone softening. “I was being rude.”

“Not really....”

“Yeah,” she insists, “I was. It’s not an excuse or anything, but it’s been pretty stressful lately, what with all the thinking I’ve been doing about this trip and the way it feels like a voltorb’s about to self-destruct all the time....” She looks up and offers him a shrug and a tired smile, this one actually reaching her eyes.

He remains silent while she speaks, his shoulders squared. Once she has finished, he says, “It’s okay.”

Leaf stares at where his eyes are beneath the glasses for a few seconds before nodding decisively. “So, what can I get for you on this fine afternoon? The milkshakes are pretty mind-blowing today; Angie must have put something extra in them or something.”

“Nah,” Ethan says, scratching his head a little. “I should go soon anyway.” He fiddles with his glasses again. “I just wanted to ask how he... how the thing at the Indigo Plateau went?”

A frown pulls at her lips as images of the night in question reappear in her mind’s eye: the panic on Red’s face when he was called onstage, the way Green had stormed out so soon, how Professor Oak had worn a troubled frown on his face for the rest of the night.

Upon remembering whom she’s talking to, Leaf smooths the frown off her face before it fully takes shape. “It went okay,” she lies.

“R-really?” he very nearly squeaks. He’s positively _beaming_ for the briefest of moments before he remembers himself and reins it in. “He liked it?”

“Well,” she begins, “I wouldn’t say he _liked_ it, but seeing everyone again for the first time in years probably did him a world of good.”

Ethan mulls this over for a moment before nodding slowly, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “That’s cool. I’m glad it worked.”

She nods back at him. Above the counter, Elvis’s right hand indicates that her break was over a couple of minutes ago. “I gotta get back to work. For real this time too.” She gets to her feet and stretches a little, extending her arms over her head. “You sure you don’t want anything before you go?”

He shakes his head absently, his attentions clearly elsewhere. Leaf snorts to herself. She turns to leave, hoping that she can finish her milkshake before the next customer pops in.

“Leaf?” Ethan calls.

She smirks and turns around, pulling out her notepad and pen. “I knew you couldn’t resist Angie’s milkshakes,” she says. “Or was it Ralph’s infamous eggs and sausage?”

The jab seems to go over the Champion’s head. “You’re going on vacation?” he asks.

Well, that catches her off guard. “Huh?”

Ethan lowers his glasses. The gold irises of his eyes shine dully in the sunlight streaming through the window. “You said you were thinking about a trip earlier,” he qualifies. “So... where are you going?”

She chuckles a little, carding her fingers through her hair a bit absently. “I did, didn’t I?” She pauses, considering. “Well....” She stops speaking and moves towards his table, considering whether or not she should tell him about the plans she’d been entertaining since the night of the party.

Then again, what could it hurt?

“I was hoping to go on a trip to Unova.” She drums the fingers of her left hand against the scratched tabletop, only the slightest bit relieved to finally talk about her plans aloud. “I think all of us could really use the time off.”

“Unova? That sounds awesome. I’ve always wanted to go too, maybe challenge their League. What kind of trip?”

“Call me crazy, but I was actually thinking of touring the entire region.”

Ethan shakes his head, the movement vehement. “That’s not crazy at all!”

“Really?” she asks, the question directed more at herself than him. “Is that even doable? Green is sitting on a couple years’ worth of vacation time, but getting him to take a long weekend off from the gym is hard enough as it is. Besides, most regional tours take almost five months, three if you only hit the major cities....”

She worries her bottom lip, thinking of how ludicrous it would be if Green actually agreed to taking a few months off to backpack through Unova, of how unrealistic she is for even considering it.

Ethan’s eyes have lit up, almost like a new possibility has occurred to him. “It’s only a few weeks,” he says slowly, “if you go by car.”

Leaf blinks. A car...?

“You know,” he adds, undeterred by her silence, “like a road trip.”

Finally, she says, “I know what a road trip is, Captain Obvious.” Beaming herself now, she bends across the tabletop to enfold him in a grateful embrace. “You might just have a brain that’s good for something other than battling in there after all.” Before she pulls back, she brushes her lips against his cheek in a quick, thankful kiss.

Ethan’s cheeks match the carpet when she pulls back. “H-hey,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “That’s _Champion_ Obvious to you, _waitress_.”

She smacks him on the arm for that, though she can’t quite wipe the excited smile off her face. “Careful, Champ, or this _waitress_ will slip a little something unpleasant in your next meal....”

“Oh, sorry!” Ethan shouts obnoxiously. “I forgot you preferred to be called _servant_!”

Leaf flips him the spearow on her way to the kitchen and her coworkers, who pretend not to listen to her absolutely riveting conversation with the League Champion of both Johto and Kanto. “Go do your job and get the hell out of my diner, Mr. Champion.”

A road trip, huh?

A plan like that—well, it might actually work.

\--

Green is in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a late dinner. "—so Machamp fainted, too," he's saying. "I finished the battle off with Arcanine. I haven't had a battle like that in a while." He sounds irritated instead of pleased. "I had to stop by the Pokémon Center afterwards. Didn't even get half the work done I wanted to."

"Machamp shouldn't have fainted," Red says. 

Green's knife slams into the chopping board. At the jarring silence, Leaf gets up and peeks into the kitchen. Green has turned to scowl at Red, and Red is staring back impassively, his head tilted to the side.

"Like _you_ would have done anything differently," Green snarls. 

Red nods. "Would have used Stone Edge."

The two men exchange glares before Green throws up his hands. "Forget it," he snaps, and pushes past Leaf to storm into the bedroom. Leaf's half-expecting the door to slam behind him, and breathes a sigh of relief when it stays open. 

When she follows Green, she finds him prowling back and forth across the cluttered floor. Eevee is sitting upright on the bed, tracking her trainer with concerned eyes as he moves. "You want to go somewhere?" he says. "Fine. Let's go. Anywhere you want, it's fine."

She steps inside, closing the door behind her. "Red has to come, too."

Green whirls. _"No_.”

"You can't just keep running away from this," Leaf says.

"I'm not running away!"

Leaf looks at the track he's worn into the carpet. 

Green follows her gaze before his eyes snap back to hers, glaring. "I'm not running away," he repeats. "I just don't want him in my life. Why is that so hard for you to understand?"

"Because he's already _in_ your life," she says. "You have to make peace with him, Green."

He gestures towards the door. "I'm not the one who just picked that fight!"

"Red was just trying to help. He's trying to be your friend!"

Green barks out a laugh. "You still think we're _friends_? Maybe you forgot how he—"

"You won't _let_ me forget! You're the one who's stuck on things that happened almost _ten years ago_ —"

Green's sharp intake of breath makes her pause. Eevee jumps from the bed onto his shoulder, and he automatically reaches up to stabilize her. Leaf walks over but doesn't try to touch him. She can hear Eevee purring hard as she rubs against his cheek, but Green's shuttered expression doesn't change.

"You need closure," she tells him gently. "We all do. I just want to _fix_ this, all right? I just want you to be happy."

"I _was_ happy," he mutters.

Leaf steps in front of him and puts her hands on his shoulders. He doesn't resist, but he doesn't lean into her, either. "Come on, Green, let's go on a trip," she tells him. "Just for a few weeks. You know the two of you have a lot to talk about."

"I don't have anything to say to him."

"Maybe you don't," she says, "but you have a lot of things you want to hear."

\--

Pikachu comes bolting out of the bedroom the second Green opens the door and heads straight for his trainer. Red kneels down and catches Pikachu as he leaps into his arms. 

A moment later, the shouting in the bedroom starts. Red closes his eyes, breathing in the familiar smell of static. "He's getting soft," he murmurs regretfully into Pikachu's ear. Pikachu licks the tip of his nose. 

He stands after a while and moves towards the job Green left unfinished, setting Pikachu down on the counter beside the chopping board. He studies the small pile of vegetables that have already been chopped, trying to figure out what needs to be done. The knife feels clumsy in his hand.

When Leaf and Green finally come out of the bedroom, the unevenly cut vegetables are simmering in a pot half-filled with water. The chopping board and knife have been cleaned, and Red is gone.

\--

Even at night, Kanto in June is almost unbearably hot, and Red's steps are slow as he climbs the stairs to Green and Leaf's second floor apartment. Pikachu is a little faster, and when Red reaches the landing, he finds his pokémon pawing at the door.

The porch light is on, but he quickly discovers that the door is locked. Red jams his hands back into his pockets, staring at the deadbolt. Pikachu makes a questioning noise, but Red shakes his head. Breaking and entering is a bad idea; Green would most likely press charges. Besides, it's not like they're unused to sleeping outside anyway, and the soft loam of the Viridian Forest floor might even be better than the couch.

When Red turns to leave, Pikachu's ears droop. The pokémon calls softly at the closed door, but the droning whine of nincada song, ever-present once the summer starts, is his only response. Pikachu looks over his shoulder at his trainer, who jerks his head towards the stairs—then pauses.

Pikachu follows Red's gaze to see Eevee's face pressed against the window, her black eyes gleaming in the dim light. Her answering cry is silenced by the glass.

Pikachu leaps up onto Red's shoulder so that he can see her more clearly. Eevee places both paws against the glass, their pads pink and uncalloused, before she drops back to all fours. She points with her nose towards the bottom left corner of the window, and gives another muted cry.

Red kneels down, feeling Pikachu dig his nails into his shoulder to keep his balance. To the left of the window, beside the door, is a large potted plant. He points at it, and Eevee nods, scratching one paw fitfully against the window. 

It seems to be an ordinary pot, without any hidden switches or compartments. Pikachu starts to dig up the soil, but Eevee's protest is so loud that it manages to filter faintly through the glass. Finally, Red heaves the pot a few inches off the ground—just high enough for Pikachu to dart underneath it and snag a dull gold key.

Pikachu leaps from Red's shoulder the moment the door opens wide enough for him to fit through, and he joins Eevee on the floor, purring as she nuzzles his cheek. Red slips through the door and closes it with a quiet _click_ , kneeling to pull off his shoes.

Eevee is circling Pikachu now, sniffing at all the new scents he's picked up on their walk through the forest. She sneezes at him and flattens her ears, then begins to lick his face with fastidious care. Pikachu squeaks at the treatment and turns away from her, following Red as he walks across the room towards the couch.

Both pokémon jump up to share his lap once he sits down. He reaches out to run a gentle hand down Eevee's back, feeling muscles underneath a layer of fat. Curious, he tickles her, and nods when she twists away, lightning-quick. She pouts at him, but closes her eyes with pleasure when he scratches under her chin.

Pikachu leans across Red's lap to headbutt her gently. "Pika?" he asks, and she sits up at once, hopping down from the couch and darting away to hide in the apartment's shadows. Pikachu buries his face in Red's shirt, muttering softly. Red counts with him, silently, up to ten.

"Pika!" he calls out, flying off the couch to search for Eevee's hiding place. Red watches his pokémon hunt through the apartment, looking in the spaces between furniture and slithering underneath Green's desk, piled high with papers that nearly obscure his PC from view. He can feel the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

When Pikachu finds her hiding underneath the kitchen sink, she shrieks and bolts away. They chase each other through the apartment, finally tumbling over the back of the couch and into a pile beside Red. Eevee lands on top of Pikachu and sits on him, triumphant, before she freezes.

"Eevee?" Red hears Green say from behind them, his voice raspy with sleep.

Red turns to look at Green, who's standing in the bedroom door. His hair is more rumpled than usual, and his expression is unreadable.

"You locked me out," Red says.

Green reaches up to rest a hand on the doorframe. Eevee rolls off of Pikachu, and the two of them peek over the couch at Green. The other man opens his mouth to say something, closes it, swallows. "Force of habit," he mutters.

Pikachu turns and nuzzles Eevee, and she lets out a little squeak. Green frowns. "Eevee," he calls, his tone calm but authoritative, and her ears twitch in response. She jumps over the couch and trots over to Green, who lifts her in his arms and looks into her eyes.

"I told you," Green mutters softly to her, and flinches a little when she licks his face.

Red and Pikachu are still staring at them over the couch when Green looks up. "What," he says.

"You should train with her more."

Green pulls Eevee in against his chest. "She's already too strong to use at the gym," he snaps.

Red shakes his head. "That's not—"

"Then what is it?"

There's a pause before Red speaks again. "She's fast, but she's not strong. Not anymore."

"Oh, I see. All right, so give me some advice, _Champ,_ " Green spits. "Should I starve my pokemon at the top of a mountain, too?"

Pikachu snarls, and Red's eyes narrow in that old, dangerous way of his. 

Green's smile shines sharp over the small, squirming body in his arms. "Oh, come on," he says. "Don't tell me I hurt your _feelings_."

"You should go to sleep," Red says, resting a hand on Pikachu's back.

"Or what?" Green says. "You going to make m— _ow!_ "

Eevee's nip nearly makes Green drop her, and there's a moment of chaos where Green scrambles to keep her in his arms and Eevee fastens her claws in his shirt. When Green looks up again, Red's expression has shifted back to its usual neutral state, and Pikachu has vanished from view.

Green pulls a hand free to rub at his temple. "You know what, I am just too tired to deal with you right now," he mutters. "I'm heading back to bed." He doesn't move to leave, though, and Red stares at him until he shifts his weight, frowning. "Whatever," he finally mutters, and turns away. The door closes behind him with a quiet bump. It seems anticlimactic.

Red looks at Pikachu, who's curled into an annoyed ball in his lap. Then he sighs and throws himself onto his side, his head hitting the pillow and folded-up blanket on the end of the sofa. Pikachu spills onto the cushions with a startled squeak, and mutters for a moment before he curls up again, this time in the hollow of Red's body. It's a familiar position, and it softens the pressure that lingers in the back of Red's throat.


	5. The Departure

Noise filters into Green's subconscious long before his alarm goes off. He cracks one eye open, reaching out automatically for Leaf, who makes an incoherent noise and scoots closer against his side.

He rolls his head on the pillow so he can check the time. 0700. The noise from outside sounds like people—a lot of people. “What the hell,” Green mumbles. Leaf issues another sleepy protest and rolls over, tucking her head under his chin. "Do you hear that?" he whispers at her.

"Too early," she complains, the words muffled by the bedsheet.

Green throws the cover off and gets up, frowning blearily. It's a Sunday—his day off from the gym—and Leaf also has the day off from work. It's a rare occurrence. He had _plans_ for this morning, ones that mostly involved his girlfriend and sleeping, and he doesn't intend to let anything or anyone ruin them. He flicks the blinds open, ready to tell the crowd below that whatever sporting event they're celebrating, they can kindly do it _somewhere else_ —before he slams the blinds shut and leaps back.

Leaf sits up in bed at the rattling of the blinds, her hair sticking up at odd angles. "Green?"

"Cameras," he mutters.

Leaf is at his side in a flash, and the two of them together peek cautiously through the blinds. There's a small forest of cameras waiting below them, some of them still raised in the hopes that Green will make a reappearance.

"What do they want?" Leaf says around a yawn.

Green's voice is tight with anger. "Who else?" he mutters.

Leaf grabs her bathrobe from the hook on the door and puts it on while Green wakes up his laptop. A quick glance at the _Viridian Sun's_ top headline confirms his suspicion: _The Prodigal Champion Returns!_

"The League party," Leaf says, nodding. "There was probably a press release. But how did they figure out he was here?"

One of Green's hands buries itself in his hair as he skims the article. "Did you check the answering machine yesterday?" Leaf shakes her head. "Me neither," he says. "Come on."

They move to the kitchen. Leaf checks the window there as Green moves to the island and presses the button on the answering machine. "Three new messages," the automated voice says.

"Green? Leaf? Hello, it's Red's mother," the familiar voice says, her calm tone undercut with tension. "There are some... people here, looking for my son, and I thought you might—"

Green hits the delete button to clear all of the messages at once, then braces his hands against the island, hanging his head. Leaf walks back to him and rests a hand on his shoulder. "They're out there, too," she says, somewhat unnecessarily. Then: "Oh."

When Green looks up, Red is just rising from the couch, awakened by the sound of his mother's voice. Green's eyes narrow at him. "Thanks," he says. "Because of you, there are reporters outside."

Red's eyes flash with panic.

"They started looking for you after the party," Leaf says quietly, her eyes following Red as he moves to the window. Green has leaned down to put his head in his hands, the small tabletop tiles digging into his elbows. Red carefully pushes the blinds open and then jerks back, just like Green had. "They'll probably go away in a few days."

"They could go away now," Green growls. He lifts his head to meet Red's gaze. "Just a few words, Red. That's all they want," he mocks. "How hard could it be?"

Leaf frowns. "Green—"

"I have to go to _work_ tomorrow. I don't feel like fighting my way out of _my own house_ when the person they're looking for doesn't even _belong_ here." Red doesn't respond, and after a moment, Green's head drops back into his hands. "Great," he growls. "Just great."

Red sits down on the couch slowly, staring at the closed door. Leaf looks at the two of them, then sighs. "Red," she calls. He doesn't turn. _"Red,"_ she calls again, louder, and he jumps. His eyes are wide when he looks at her. "Green and I were thinking about going on a road trip through Unova," she says. "Sounds like it would be a good time for you to come, too."

Both men stare at her in shock.

"I didn't say he could come!" Green shouts.

Leaf shushes him, drawing a finger to her lips. "They're right outside," she reminds him, and Green reluctantly settles back.

"I don't want him to come," he repeats.

"We can't just _leave_ him here," she says in a low voice. She gestures at Red. Green glances at his bowed head and hunched shoulders, then quickly turns his gaze to the opposite wall with an aggravated sigh.

"Red?" she calls softly. He looks up again. "Do you want to come with us to Unova?"

Red's eyes flick to Green, whose face is turned away, his arms folded. Then they flick to Leaf's kind smile, and finally to the window, with the waiting crowd just beyond it. "I...I don't know," he says quietly.

A voice filters through the door, making all three of them cringe. "Leader Green? Are you in there?"

"Well, it looks like we're not going anywhere for a while," Leaf says. "Why don't you two just think about it? I'm going to use the shower first," she says, pecking Green on the cheek, before she returns to the bedroom.

Green's foot begins to tap a fast rhythm against the floor. He paces a few steps, and then turns, hemmed in by the small kitchenette. "You're just always attracting trouble, aren't you, Red?"

"This isn't my fault," Red whispers.

Green snorts. "You _could_ have stayed up there forever. Certainly would've made my life a hell of a lot easier." Red shakes his head, and Green strides out of the kitchen to stand in front of his old rival, glaring down at him.

"Why'd you do it?" he demands in a low hiss. "Why'd you let that kid beat you?"

Green watches the variety of emotions that flash across Red's face before his expression shutters. He laughs, but the sound is mirthless.

"Well, when you figure it out—" he gestures at the closed window blinds— ”just let them know."

Green marches to the bedroom and throws himself onto his bed, stretching out to take up as much room as possible. The shower's white noise helps to filter out the sound of the crowd outside.

"I hate my life," he mutters, and thinks about how it would be to pretend to be someone else for a while, on a continent far, far away.

\--

Lyra’s bedroom hasn’t changed all that much since she and Ethan were kids. Her shelves are still lined with the same dolls she used to blackmail Ethan into playing with on their playdates. The walls stand as a testament to old obsessions: posters of boy bands and cutesy magical girl animes ripped out of magazines are still affixed there, the corners drooping where the tape has lost its adhesiveness.

It’s comforting to Ethan, in a way. After working hard to make it so that his surroundings match the landscape of his most ambitious dreams, finding something constant grounds him. New Bark Town in general is like an old security blanket from his childhood; he may have outgrown it for all intents and purposes, but he still takes a secret pleasure in clutching it to his chest.

He sits on the floor, his back resting against the side of the bed. Lyra sits on edge of the squeaky mattress, bending forward from her vantage point to comb her fingers through his hair. Her bare feet propped on his shoulders, she hums along to a familiar pop song that plays on the plastic, princess-pink radio set.

Ethan’s eyes are closed, but his mind is racing with thoughts he can’t yet bring himself to say aloud. Instead, he cracks an eye open. “What is it with you and my hair?”

“I’m jealous, obviously,” Lyra replies, deadpan. “My hair just doesn’t compare.”

“Obviously,” Ethan agrees.

Her fingers bury themselves in his hair to start scratching at his scalp. “Besides, you know you like it.”

“I would like it _better_ if you scratched a little more to the right. Now go up... more....” When she hits the spot, he closes his eyes and sighs thankfully.

“And you wonder why everyone and their mom thinks we’re dating,” Lyra says wryly.

He snorts. “Please. As if I would ever lower my standards to date you.”

“I think,” she says, punctuating her words with a wrenchingly painful pull of his hair, “that you have that backwards.”

Yelping, Ethan swats ineffectually at her hands. “Lyra— _ow_! C’mon, quit it!”

“Not until you say you’re sorry,” Lyra sings sweetly.

He resists as long as he can, but alas, even the Champion’s valiant courage has its limits. “ _Ouch_! Okay, okay—I’m sorry!”

She loosens her grip and resumes massaging his scalp, like nothing had happened. “I accept your apology,” Lyra says magnanimously.

He barely manages to bite back a retort. Knowing Lyra since they were both toddlers has acquainted him well with the manner in which her counterattacks only escalate in severity. She had probably learned that from playing with Ethan and the other boys in town for most of her life, and—though he would _never_ mention it aloud—he has to admit that she’s learned well.

“So,” Lyra begins, “are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

Ethan lets his head fall back onto the mattress. Fluttering his eyelashes, he pouts at the upside-down Lyra in faux sincerity. “Am I not allowed to visit my, like, best friend ever?”

She rolls her eyes. “No. At least not if you don’t have anything _new_ to say to her.”

“Ouch.”

Lyra's smirk mellows into a grin. “No, but really. You’re usually too busy with 'Champion stuff' to bother with little old me. What’s this about?”

“I was kinda, sorta...” Ethan says slowly, pausing to chew on his bottom lip between words, “hoping that you’d give me some advice.”

“Advice?” she repeats. “What for?”

He sucks in a deep breath, considering. “Uh—well....”

“Is this about Silver?” Lyra interrupts, her tone suspicious.

Ethan splutters as the mental image of his self-proclaimed rival replaces the much more pleasant one in his mind. “S-Silver!?” he squeaks. His face goes the color of slowpoke skin. “What the hell made you bring up _Silver_?”

Giggling, Lyra looks away and twirls one of her pigtails around her index finger. “Some of your fans think the two of you have great chemistry.”

“ _What fans_?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “Some members of this online forum.” Her eyes meet his. “You’re practically a celebrity, Ethan. You might as well get used to stuff like that.”

He scowls, mulling it over. “I guess,” he concedes, albeit reluctantly. “It doesn’t mean that I have to _like_ it though.”

She lets silence settle between them for a minute or so before prompting, “Speaking of _like_...”

Before he can open his mouth to reply, his pokégear begins vibrating in his shorts. Both he and Lyra stare at each other in bewilderment for a moment before Ethan shoves his hand into his pocket and fishes it out. At the sight of the name on the screen, his cheeks turn a telltale shade of pink. Flipping it open, he lifts the receiver to his ear, hiding the screen from Lyra’s curious gaze.

“H-hello?” he says, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

“I know this is probably really odd and presumptuous of me to ask,” the voice on the other end of the line whispers, “but how fast can you whip up a media shitstorm?”

Ethan blinks a few times. “Huh?”

“It’s _horrible_ , Ethan,” Leaf moans. “The press got wind that Red is staying with us, and now they’re camped outside our apartment building and snapping pictures of us each time we look out the windows. Green hasn’t been able to make it to work, and he blames Red for everything, naturally, even though Red’s been staring into space without saying a word since this morning.” She pauses, seemingly for dramatic effect. “It’s gotten so bad that Green actually _agreed_ to my idea.”

Mindful of Lyra’s interested stare, Ethan tries to keep his voice level. “Your idea? You mean that, uh, trip?”

“Yes,” Leaf confirms. “We already bought the tickets and everything. Our flight to Mistralton leaves tomorrow morning, but I don’t know if we’ll even make it in time if the paparazzi hounds us all the way there.”

Ethan nods a little. “So... you need my help?”

Her sigh manifests itself as a wave of static in his ear. “I’m really sorry to put you in this position, but I don’t really know of anyone else that they would be more interested in.”

“Okay,” Ethan says. “Yeah, I’ll do it.” He doesn’t exactly know _how_ yet, but he’ll do it.

Leaf’s gratitude is practically palpable. “Thank you so much!” she whispers. “Your next five—no, _ten_ meals at the diner are on me, okay?”

“That sounds a little lacking to me...” says Ethan, trailing off.

She snorts. “Don’t push your luck, Champ.” After a meaningful pause, she says, “If you come through really spectacularly, I might consider fifteen.”

“Deal,” he says immediately.

“Thanks again,” Leaf says fervently. “Really, Ethan. You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s no problem,” he replies.

The moment he puts the pokégear down, Lyra is on him like a pack of houndour. “Who was that?” she demands.

“A friend...?”

Lyra smacks him on the head. “Bullshit,” she declares, jumping off the mattress and stalking over to stand in front of him. She towers over his seated form, her hands on her hips. “You practically lit up like a Christmas tree when you were on the phone!”

Sheepishly, Ethan scratches at the back of his head. The tips of his ears are bright red; there really is no way to dodge her questions. “She’s... _this girl_ , okay.”

“She sounded like more than a _girl_ to me,” Lyra interrupts.

Ethan covers his face with his hands. “Okay, okay. She’s this girl— _woman_ who really helped me out when I was in a tight spot, and we became friends....”

Lyra is practically jumping in place. “Oh my god, oh my god.”

“You’re enjoying this _way_ too much....”

“How can I _not_?” Lyra nearly shouts, gesticulating widely. “My best friend in the whole wide world has a crush on some _woman_!” The sound of her giggles is almost effervescent.

Ethan bites his lip. “Uh, well. She’s... kinda already with someone....”

His best friend pauses mid-giggle, her eyes wide. “You’re crushing on someone who’s already in a relationship.” It’s not really a question.

Nodding guiltily, he goes on, “It’s not like I _wanted_ to. It just happened.”

There is a pregnant pause between them as Lyra processes the situation. “But she called you just now,” she says slowly. “Why did she call you?”

“One of her friends is kinda famous,” he explains, “and reporters are waiting for him outside their apartment. They have tickets for a flight, but they can’t get out. She asked me to do something to help them.”

Lyra frowns. “Let me get this straight,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “She wants you to cover for her while she and her famous boyfriend run off to some exotic locale?”

“The famous guy is her friend. Her boyfriend is a gym leader,” he corrects.

“Is her gym leader boyfriend going too?” He shrugs, and Lyra’s eyes narrow at him. “There’s no difference then!” she exclaims. “Why would you help her with that? You’re acting like a doormat!”

Helplessly, Ethan shrugs again. “She asked.”

“Wow,” she mutters. “You haven’t had it _this_ bad since my sister!”

Ethan groans. “Can we not bring that up _again_?” Mocking him about the way he’d mooned after Kris as a kid is still one of Lyra’s favorite pastimes. Scowling, he continues, “Look, I said I would help her. I _am_ going to help her.” He takes in the pitying look of disapproval on her face, and in that moment, he makes his decision. “I have a plan,” he says decisively.

She doesn’t look convinced. “What kind of plan?”

There’s no turning back now, he thinks. “I’m going on that trip too.”

Lyra blinks at him, incredulous. “You’re going to _stalk_ this girl and her boyfriend?”

“N-no!” Ethan protests. “It’s not stalking! Besides, I—I _know_ that she isn’t happy with the way things are in her life right now. If I just—if I really _try_ , I know things will work out.” He can hear something desperate insinuate itself into his tone, but he plods on anyway. “I need to do this,” he insists, “but I need your help too.”

“You’re talking about breaking up a relationship here,” she points out.

“I know,” he says. “I have to do it anyway.”

For a few moments, Lyra only stares down at him. Ethan keeps his expression resolute, his desperation keeping the doubts within him from showing on his face.

Finally, she speaks. “If it were _anyone_ else,” she says, “I would try to talk them down. I know you though; you never back down.”

Ethan beams, a wild hope blooming in his chest. “So you’ll help?”

She nods. “I can’t let you make a fool of yourself,” she says. “At least not alone.”

In a rush of movement, Ethan rises to his feet and embraces her. “You’re the best friend anyone could ever have, Lyra,” he says.

“I know,” she replies, pulling away and out of his arms. “But before you get too grateful... I have an idea about this distraction thing you need to create.”

He cocks his head to the side curiously. “What?”

In retrospect, Ethan should have refused the second he saw that devious smirk spread across her features.

\--

After staring at the phone for almost ten minutes, Red finally decides to punch in the familiar sequence of numbers. He waits while it rings, his heartbeat heavy against the inside of his chest.

There is a click. “Hello?”

"Hi, mom," Red whispers into the phone.

"Red?" His mother's voice sounds concerned and slightly breathless; she usually hangs the laundry outside around this time of day. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He shifts the phone on his shoulder. "I'm still staying with Green and Leaf."

"Oh, good," she sighs. "I knew they would take care of you."

Red doesn't know what to say in response to that, so he doesn't say anything. He picks at a loose thread in the carpet, trying not to breathe too loudly.

"What is it?" his mother asks quietly.

"They—want me to go on a trip with them. To Unova."

She pauses before she speaks again. "That sounds like it might be a good idea," she says slowly. "At least until things quiet down. Have either of them been to Unova before?"

Red shakes his head, then remembers and says, "No."

"Hmm." He can hear the echo of her voice change as she moves through the house. “Well, Pikachu will be with you. You should be fine." There's silence on the phone line for a moment. Red fans his fingers out, feeling the rug's rough fibers tickle his palm. "But there's something else, isn't there?" she asks.

Red takes a deep breath. "Green and Leaf. They're...different."

"They are," she agrees. "You all are. The three of you have grown up so much since you left home."

Red waits.

"But they're still your friends," she says. "Aren't they?"

"I don't know," he murmurs.

She pauses, thinking. Red presses his fingers more deeply into the carpet and digs his fingers in. The plastic weave that holds it together bites into his fingers. "Do you want to be their friend?" his mother asks.

Red takes a moment to think about it. "Yes."

"Then maybe this road trip will be for the best," she says, sounding relieved. Leaf is the daughter she never had after all, and she's always been fond of Green, even when he was at his worst. "You'll have time to get to know each other again, and you'll get to see a new region, too." She clucks her tongue at him, softly. "It's not good for young trainers to stay in one place too long."

Red doesn't say anything, and his mother lets the silence linger. Finally, she asks, "Do you have time to visit before you leave?"

"The flight is tomorrow," he says.

"Well, that's okay," his mother replies. "Have fun, and call me when you land, okay?"

The plastic is starting to hurt where it's digging into Red's fingers.

"You'll be okay," she says gently. "Life is all about taking risks, and I've raised you well."

He nods. "Okay," he whispers. "I'll call."

She says good-bye and hangs up. Red gets up and places the phone back in its cradle on the kitchen island, then walks to the bedroom door and knocks.

Leaf opens it, looking expectant. Behind her, there are two large suitcases fighting for space on the bed, each one half-packed. Green is standing by the farthest one, looking at him. He's not pleased, but he doesn't seem angry either.

"I want to go," Red tells her. Leaf's eyes brighten, and Green turns away, reaching for something else to jam into his bag.

"Great! I'm glad we don't have to waste the extra seat," she says. "It's a good thing you don't have a lot to pack."

Red nods and pulls the door closed. He's going to Unova, he thinks.

He nods again, this time to himself, and goes to tell Pikachu.

\--

Leaf sits on the couch, morosely munching her way through a bag of carrot sticks. Their flight leaves in a few hours, but they're still trapped in their apartment. After calling in to the diner and using all her vacation time, Leaf would really hate to miss this window of opportunity. "That's what I get for trusting Ethan, of all people," she mutters to herself. Somewhat ferociously, she bites hard into another carrot. The crunch is only fleetingly satisfying.

Abruptly, the noise in front of their building spikes. She barely glances up at first, but when the sound level doesn't drop, she stands with a sigh and walks to the window. She's cautious as she peeks through the blinds, then quickly realizes that she doesn't need to be. The reporters are packing up their cameras as fast as they can and running down the stairs. From their shouts, she makes out "Champion," "girlfriend," and "scandal."

"Green! Red!" she yells, racing back towards the bedroom. Red pops his head out from the bathroom, and Green looks up from the book he's been reading. "They're leaving!"

All three of them go to the front window to check. There are still one or two reporters in front of their house, angrily finishing the work of packing their things up to leave. Then they, too, are gone.

There's a moment of stunned silence before Leaf begins to laugh thankfully. "What are you waiting for?" she demands of the two boys. "Come on, let's go! Before they change their minds!"

There's a flurry of motion as the three of them grab coats and bags, check one last time that all the lights and appliances are off, and then run out of the apartment. They take the stairs to the roof three at a time, thrilled to finally be outside in the open air. Once they're on the roof, Pidgeot and Charizard appear with near-simultaneous flashes of light.

"We're going to Fuchsia," Green shouts to Red as Leaf hops up behind him, and in the next moment the two pokémon are powering their way upwards, towards the clouds and out of sight.

\--

Fuchsia International Airport is the only airport in Kanto that services Unova Airlines. Green and Leaf take point on Pidgeot while Red and Charizard soar a few wingbeats behind them. They're up high enough that no one should notice them, and once they get into the airport itself, security should keep them safe from the press.

Green glances at the ocean as it flashes by. Leaf is holding a scarf around her nose and mouth, and her other arm is wrapped around his waist, sharing warmth between their bodies. He leans forward until he’s almost against his pidgeot's neck, focused on navigating. It's been awhile since he's flown to Fuchsia; the last time was for the exhibition match against Janine, and that was back when he first became a gym leader. How long ago was that? Four years now?

Maybe Leaf is right—maybe he could use a vacation. This trip to Unova, however, definitely doesn't count.

Fuchsia City is first visible as a tiny point on the shore, and he gives Pidgeot the signal to start coasting down towards it. A quick look behind him confirms that Red is following their landing pattern. They're over the city in ten minutes, but the airport is just outside the city limits. Technically, it's a no-fly zone for trainers. There are legitimate concerns about airbound trainers and their pokémon colliding with the airplanes that are taking off and landing, but Green's never been one for rules.

The two pokémon fly low, turning heads as they pass over the jammed, spiralling roadways that lead to the main departure and arrival gates. They finally land by the Unova Airlines terminal, the wind from their pokémon's flapping wings buffeting pedestrians and making some cars screech as their drivers try to figure out what's going on.

"Act casual," Green says to Leaf over the sounds of shouting. He dismounts first and digs out his wallet, seemingly unfazed by the security that's running towards them.

"Sir! You can't—"

"Sorry, we're in a hurry. Official League business," Green says, flashing his gym leader identification.

He lets one of the guards take his ID and scrutinize it, turning back to his pokémon. Leaf hands down their suitcases before offering him her hand. As Green helps her slide off of Pidgeot's back, one of the security guards says, "No one told us about this."

Green rolls his eyes and returns Pidgeot to his poké ball. Charizard has already been recalled. "Must have been a mix-up with the paperwork. Honestly, that's not my problem." He plucks his identification from the security guard's fingers and gives them all a lazy two-fingered salute before he starts to walk away, Leaf and Red trailing behind him. "Good work, guys."

"Thanks for understanding," Leaf adds as she passes the guards, giving them her prettiest smile. Red pulls his cap lower as he passes them by.

"Was that really necessary?" she hisses the moment they enter the air conditioned terminal.

"We're late," he says, distracted as he looks for Unova Airlines's check-in. Once he sees it, he starts towards it, hearing Red and Leaf fall into step behind him. He snorts, almost amused but mostly irritated; whenever he travels, Red always seems to follow, almost like the shadow he can't get rid of.

The line at the desk is short, and Green breathes a sigh of relief once their bags are checked in. As they follow the signs to security, Green takes Leaf's hand. Red trails behind them, looking around in every direction. Suddenly, Green remembers that he's never left Kanto before.

"Having fun?" he asks Leaf. She grins at him and snuggles against his arm.

"Yes," she says. "Unova, here we come!"

"Security first," he reminds her, and she gives him a good-natured groan. 

\--

"Your shoes," Green says to him. Red gives him a confused look.

"You have to take your shoes off and put them through the x-ray machine," Leaf says, gesturing to the large set-up in front of them. "And if you have anything metal, you have to drop it into the bin." She hands him one, and he takes it, bewildered. After a moment of watching Leaf kick her shoes off, he starts to fumble with his watch strap.

A man comes by, holding a tray with six poké ball-shaped depressions in it, and Green drops his team's balls into it without comment. The man walks away, and Red starts to say something, then stops himself.

"They check your pokémon to make sure they're not carrying any dangerous items," Leaf continues, pointing towards a second machine that resembles a pokémon center's healing station. "That's why I just left my pokémon in the box for now; you get through security faster that way, and you can just pick them up at the pokémon center in Mistralton."

The guard comes over to Red next, holding the tray out. Red takes Pikachu's ball off his belt and hesitates. "Come on, there's a line," the man says, gesturing impatiently with the tray, and Red quickly drops all of his poké balls in. He keeps an eye on them as they're placed in the queue in front of the machine.

"Step through," another guard says, gesturing at the metal detector. Green and Leaf are already on the other side, gathering their things, and he manages to walk through without fanfare. 

Red is relieved once his pokémon are given back to him. The guard smiles and says, "First time flyer?" When Red nods, she continues, "Don't worry. Your pokémon are safe and sound. Have a nice flight." He mumbles his thanks and clips them back onto his belt. Then he grabs his backpack and the bin with his stuff and pads towards Green and Leaf in stockinged feet.

Leaf helps Green with his necklace clasp as Red jams his feet back into his shoes. As Green turns away and shrugs into his jacket, Leaf grabs her purse, the first to be ready, and grins. "And they say girls are slow," she says.

The airport reminds Red of the Celadon Department Store: there are crowds of people and stores everywhere. The difference is that the people around him speak several languages, and the view through the windows has sleek airplanes moving slowly beneath the midmorning sun. 

Leaf doesn't give the shops more than a glance, easily keeping pace with Green until they find their departing gate. "We're at gate C28 for Mistralton City," she tells him. "Remember that, okay?" Red frowns at her but nods anyway. 

She glances at the TV screen overhead, whose headline reads _Champion Ethan's Gay Scandal!_ in yellow letters. She winces at the sight of a grainy recording of a pigtailed brunette yelling at Ethan, who raises his hands in a mixture of placation and panic. "It's over!" she screams. "I know all about you and—" and the screen cuts to a shaky video of a scowling, redheaded boy leaving a Pokémon Center and trying to keep his face covered. 

Leaf clears her throat. "I'm going to go... look around," she says. "Do you guys want to come?"

Red has already released Pikachu, and the two of them are moving towards the floor-to-ceiling windows to stare at the planes. "I'll come with you," Green says. "I'm kind of hungry."

Red barely notices as they leave. His breath lightly fogs the glass as he and Pikachu watch a distant plane pick up speed down the long straightaway, the piercing whine of the engines increasing in volume as it zooms by. It lifts off the ground with almost painful slowness, but gains altitude faster than he expected. It's out of sight within minutes, and Pikachu cries out with excitement.

Fifteen minutes later, a large plane turns in front of his window, tugged by a vehicle that looks far too small to be towing something so huge. Signallers walk backwards, beckoning the vehicle closer to the building with the bright red cones in their hands. _UNOVA AIRLINES,_ the side of the plane reads, and its tail is banded in stripes of gray, black, and white. 

When the plane is in the right position, the signallers disperse, and an accordion-like walkway extends from the building to the door on the side of the plane. The people around him look up at it, and begin to gather their things. 

Red looks at Pikachu, who has placed his front paws on the glass in an imitation of his trainer. _Our plane,_ he thinks, and feels a rush of butterflies well up inside his stomach.

\--

They bought their tickets much too late for any of them to get window seats, unfortunately. Green and Leaf are sitting next to each other, with Leaf taking the aisle and Green sandwiched between her and another passenger. Red is beside her on the other side of the aisle, in the large middle seating section. "International flights are the worst," Leaf says. "I'm glad we've got a stopover in Hoenn."

Green nods, double-checking the poké balls on his belt. His hand lingers on Eevee's ball before he reaches up, turning the air on. A peek out the far window gives him a last glance at the Kanto's low fields, with Fuchsia City's skyline in the distance.

"Please turn off all cell phones and electronic devices," the flight attendant calls, but Green's pokégear has been off since they left the house. He's not in the mood to talk to anyone right now; he's too focused on what's to come. Leaf leans across his lap to get a look out the window herself. "Red, can you see?" she calls across the aisle as she leans back. Red twists and turns in his seat, and eventually shakes his head.

With a slight jolt, the plane begins to move. Green half-listens as the screen in front of them plays the customary pre-flight video, checking his seat belt when it goes over how to properly fasten it, turning away with disinterest when it talks about emergency landings. The flight attendant closest to them moves in time to the video, her movements quick and rehearsed. Soon afterwards, the attendants disappear to their own seats.

"Cleared for takeoff," says the speaker overhead, and there's a pause of a few minutes before the engines begin to roar.

Green allows the building momentum to flatten him back in his seat and turns to look at Leaf. She's nearly bouncing in place with excitement, a huge grin on her face when she catches Green's eye. Her hand finds his and grasps tightly.

He looks past her to the young man sitting silently across the aisle, his face emotionless. Red doesn't look back, and eventually Green turns to the tiny bit of window he can still see, watching the ground and sky rush past them. He tilts his head to rest against Leaf's and feels the earth drop away.

Over 9,000 kilometers to Unova, on a flight with one stopover and at least eighteen hours in the air. There's a twelve-hour time difference with Mistralton, and a thirteen hour difference with other parts of the continent. It's farther from Kanto than he's ever been. He's...excited? Worried? Annoyed? But he feels calm, almost happy. He squeezes Leaf's hand in his and leans against the chair.

 _Five and a half thousand miles to go,_ he thinks to himself, and kisses Leaf on the cheek. 

"We're off."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Metamorphosis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7968868) by [Skylark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Skylark)




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